


Uzmurûd

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: "Accidental Death", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Spirits, Angst, Attempted Murder, Cursed Company, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, M/M, Murder, No horror story is complete without at least 1 little kid, Suicide, Suspense, Vengeful Spirits, oodles of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Fili and Kili, Thorin is beside himself with grief. However, he refuses to blame himself for the death of his heirs and targets Bilbo instead, setting him up and putting him on trial for stealing from the king.</p><p>Title is Khuzdul for "The Evil Spirits"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**PART THE FIRST**


	2. Chapter 2

_Do you know what it’s like to hear a person’s death scream?_

_It’s horrible._

_You try to block out the sound, covering your ears._

_But you can’t block it out and you weep, trying to ignore the horror of blood and flesh being torn from a dying man’s body embedding itself in your retinas._

_No matter how you block it out…_

_No matter what you tell yourself…_

_You **can’t** ever escape it…_

Those are Kili’s last memories before he wakes. He barely recognizes the one who’s killed before him until he sits up and remembers.

_It was Fili._

He wakes lying on the ground, amidst several bodies yet identifiable. With shaking hands, he pushes himself off the ground. His legs are weak beneath him, prone to give out at any moment.

“Hello?!”

Kili spun around toward the voice, searching.

“Can’t you hear me?! I’m right next to you! I’m shouting in your ear!”

“What the hell?” Kili whispers, following the voice into camp. Dwarves ran about, tending to the wounded and gathering the dead.

Except one.

“ _LOOK AT ME!!_ ”

“Fili?”

Fili’s head snapped around. He strode over to Kili, embracing him. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought _you_ were, _Nadad_ ,” Kili responded, clinging tightly to Fili’s coat. “I saw you fall—you were _dead_. The blood and—and the _screams_ …”

“I know,” Fili hushed, “I know.” He released Kili, bumping his forehead to the other’s. “I swear you died. There’s no possible way you couldn’t have been killed. Arrows…so many arrows just… _struck_ you down.”

“What about Thorin?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t found him. I’ve been trying to, but no one is paying attention to me even THOUGH I’M RIGHT HERE!!!” he bellowed at a young soldier who didn’t so much as blink. He shook his head, kicking the log the soldier sat on. “I _swear_ they’re ignoring me on purpose. Which doesn’t make any _sense_! What kind of people _ignore_ their prince?”

Kili shrugged. “Come on, let’s find Uncle.” They walked by men who would not step aside for them. Kili found it as odd as Fili did infuriating. The further in they went, the more odd Kili found the situation to be. Why wouldn’t anyone look at them? Even if some of the Dwarves there were not of Erebor or Belegost, wouldn’t they be noticed?

“There’s Balin,” Fili said, pointing at the elderly Dwarf. They approached. Balin didn’t so much as notice them. “Balin? Balin! Not you too! This isn’t funny anymore.”

“Fili, I don’t think they can see us.”

Fili spun, hair whipping his face. “What?”

“Maybe we really did die.”

“Thorin, you shouldn’t be up,” Balin said. They turned around. “Thorin!”

“Tell me it’s not true. Tell me they live and I will go back to bed.”

“You know we cannot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Thorin—” He not so much pushed past Balin as hobbled into another tent. Kili followed him. Two tables had been laid out. Both held rigid lumps covered in shrouds.

“Kili, we shouldn’t be here,” Fili said, stepping inside. “Let’s go outside.”

Thorin pulled back one of the shrouds, revealing Kili. He felt his stomach churn. Blood dripped from one of his eyes where he had been shot. He looked up at his Uncle. Thorin knelt, an expression he had never seen on his face before.

If Kili dared to admit it, it frightened him.

“Kili, come on.”

“Where is the Halfling,” Thorin growled.

“Thorin, Bilbo is not to blame for this,” Balin said. “You know this, or have you not regained your senses?”

“My conscious is quite clear, Balin. Where is he? _Find him_!”

“What’s going on?” Kili asked.

Fili shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s on a rampage. Kili, we were all he had left, I can’t even begin to imagine what that will do to Thorin.”

“But why does he want Bilbo?”

“I don’t know.”

#

Bilbo slung his bag over his shoulder. _Best leave while no one’s watching_ , he thought. The flap to his tent opened. Two hands seized him.

“What is the meaning of this? What are you—let me go! I’m leaving! Let me go!”

The Dwarves dragged him to the center of camp, despite how violently he struggled against them. It was futile against their greater strength. He was thrown into the mud. He stood.

“I do hope there is a good reason for this!” he shouted, trying to sound braver than he felt. Bilbo looked around wildly. None of the Dwarves around him moved.

“Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo turned to Thorin. “I’m leaving,” he said. “You need not see me again.”

“What you’ve done has far exceeded banishment.”

“And what have I done?” Thorin held up the Arkenstone. “I hardly see the problem. You got it back, didn’t you? Why keep me here.”

“Whether it was returned to me or not is beside the point.” He set it down. “You have stolen from _me_ , the King of Erebor. By right, you would be sentenced to death immediately.”

Bilbo felt light headed.

“In light of our past, I’m willing to give you a reprieve. You will be put on trial and your fate decided then.”

“Just days ago, my punishment was _banishment_! Why have you changed it to death?!” He narrowed his eyes trying not to cry and trying ever so hard to muster a courage he simply could not feel. “This hasn’t anything to do with the Arkenstone, does it? It’s about Fili and Kili—”

“ _Do not speak those names to me_ ,” Thorin roared. “It is your doing! You may not have held the blade or strung the bow, but the blood of my family is on your hands!”

_“That’s not true!”_

Bilbo turned to the left, brow furrowed and mouth parted. “Fili?” he whispered.

_“Uncle, you know it’s not true!”_

This time it came from the right. _What is going on?_

_“Do you think Gandalf might be able to see us? Or at least hear?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“I’ll go find him! He’s a wizard, maybe he can intervene before it gets out of hand.”_

_“I’ll stay with Bilbo. Hurry, Kili!”_

“I do not know what you think it is I had done that is so horrid, Thorin, but my actions did _not_ kill Fili and Kili. I loved those boys just as much as the rest of the Company. I had intended no harm when I took the Arkenstone! I meant to save us all from your pride and madness! You would have all of us _die_ and for what?! A pile of gold?! Nothing is worth the life of a person! A wise king would know that!”

_“Where is Gandalf?”_

_“I could not find him. How is it proceeding?”_

_“Not well.”_

Thorin and Bilbo stared at each other, fury radiating off both.

“For the theft of the Arkenstone and for the death of the Princes of Erebor, I place you, Bilbo Baggins, under arrest to await your trial for these crimes.”

 “Thorin, please see reason,” Balin pleaded. “Bilbo had done no wrong. He is a Hobbit and is unused to our ways. Our culture is not his. Knowing this, could you not have a little mercy?”

Two guards seized him.

“He is not to leave his tent for any reason save for his trial.”

“Thorin!”

_“Everyone’s gone mad!”_

_“What do you expect? We’re dead! There’s nothing we can do. Without Gandalf, it’s all hopeless.”_

_“I’ll keep looking, but I swear I could not find him.”_

_“Don’t worry, Bilbo. We won’t let Uncle get away with this.”_

“Where are you? I hear you, but I can’t see you, Fili.”

_“You can hear us?!”_

“Yes.”

 _“How?!”_ Kili’s voice echoed.

Bilbo shook his head as he was dragged away. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Nadad=Brother  
> Nadadith=Brother that is young (little brother)


	3. Chapter 3

“Please calm down,” Bilbo whispered, “Fili, calm down. I know you’re angry, but this isn’t helping.”

 _“I know,”_ Fili answered, growling. Bilbo shivered. _“Are you okay?”_

“I’m a bit cold.”

 _“Sorry. That might be us,”_ Kili answered. _“I read—”_

 _“You_ read _?”_

“Fili,” Bilbo warned.

 _“Yes. I read. I’m not all good looks,”_ Kili huffed.

Bilbo smiled. He imagined Kili glaring at his brother.

 _“I_ read _that spirits tend to mess with the temperature in a room, make it a little bit cooler than it should be. Completely natural and we can’t control it. Eventually we should be able to do a bunch of tricks: move objects and become visible…that’d be cool.”_

Bilbo didn’t agree. He was worried about what would happen to them the longer they stayed. He tugs on his bound hands a little.

_“Bilbo?”_

“I have an itch,” he said. “On my nose.” A burst of cold air touched his nose, soothing it. “Thanks.”

 _“Not a problem,”_ Fili said.

The tent flap opened, drawing Bilbo’s attention away from the ghost princes. Balin entered, face downcast and wringing his hands together. He stood in front of Bilbo, kneeling.

“Hello,” Bilbo said, managing a smile. “I, uh, take it Thorin’s not changed his mind?”

“I’m afraid not, laddie,” Balin said. “There is very little I can do. If his sister were alive, maybe…but I can’t really say what is going to happen to you. But I’m doing what I can.”

Bilbo swallowed. “Do the others blame me?”

Balin scoffed. “Some, but not all. The company’s divided right now, but there is little we can do against our king without risking joining you.”

“I see.”

“I am sorry…”

“No, don’t be. Thorin’s quite powerful. It’d be hard to overcome him…”

_“Bastard.”_

_“Kili!”_

_“You know it’s true!”_

Bilbo winced at Kili’s scream and shivered as the room chilled.

“Bilbo?” Balin asked. He didn’t respond, staring at his feet. Balin squeezed his shoulder. “How about I get you some blankets. It’s a bit draftier in here than I thought.”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said. “It’s always cold in here, but it’s not unbearably so. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I’d feel better if you had them.”

 _“It’d be better if you just got him out of here!”_ Fili shouted. Bilbo glared in Fili’s direction. Balin furrowed his brow, turning toward him now. _“Wait? Do you hear me? Balin?”_

Bilbo shook his head.

“Bilbo, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, blinking at Balin with wide eyes. “Nothing is going on besides Thorin being…I guess himself.”

“Laddie, he’s not being himself. I know you’re lying. What is it?”

Bilbo stared at his feet again.

 _“It couldn’t hurt,”_ Kili said. _“Go ahead, Bilbo.”_

 _If only it were that easy_ , Bilbo thought. He looked at Balin. “This is…this is going to sound absolutely mad…”

“It is said that when someone is reluctant to talk of something that might sound mad, they may be telling the truth,” Balin said.

Bilbo bit his lip, scanning the room. He swallowed.

“I can hear Fili and Kili,” he said. “They…they talk to me. They’ve been trying to contact people, they were at my trial and that’s why it’s so cold in here. _They_ are here and they’re angry with Thorin and I don’t…I know you think I must have lost my mind.”

Bilbo shook his head, scoffing. _What was I thinking listening to Kili?_

“Were it someone else, yes, I would think you were mad. But I know you, Bilbo, you’re not mad. You’re one of the most rational people I know.”

Bilbo stared at him, gaping. “You believe me?”

“I do. Besides, I’ve come across spirits in my travels before. There is a plentitude of writings about earthbound spirits…I should be able to find something.” He stood. “I’ll be back when I have more information on the subject. In the meantime, I’d take the blankets.”

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you, Balin, for believing me.”

Balin smiled. “I only wish there was more I could do for you lad.”

#

He didn’t see the necessity of a blindfold. Weren’t the shackles good enough?

There was also no need for the guards to be as rough as they were, pulling him along as he was. His feet skimmed over the ground as they strode to…wherever it was they were taking him.

_“Brutes.”_

_“If I could I’d skewer them! It’s not like you’re going anywhere.”_

Bilbo didn’t answer the brothers, though he’d prefer to tell them to shut up.

He was dropped on the ground, his hand shackles locked to some sort of hook before the blindfold was removed. Bilbo blinked at the light around him.

Sunlight! How he missed it!

There was a circle of Dwarves around him, at the front of the procession was Thorin, glaring down at Bilbo.

“Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire,” he began, “Explain to us why you are here.”

Bilbo swallowed, tugging on his chains. He blinked at Thorin.

“What do you mean by ‘why I am here’?” he asked. “If you mean why I am in Erebor, then you know quite well that you _hired me_ to steal the Arkenstone from Smaug. If you are talking about why I’m being put on trial for a crime I did not commit—”

“So you plead not guilty? Did you not steal the Arkenstone?”

“This isn’t even about that bloody stone!” Bilbo shouted. The voices rose, shouting at him. “You just don’t want to blame yourself for your nephews’ deaths!”

_“This is bad.”_

_“Bilbo, tell them we’re here!”_

_“Kili, you dolt, that won’t work! They’ll just think he’s mad!”_

_“Balin didn’t, maybe—”_

_“No, Kili—what are you doing?!”_

_“Sorry, Bilbo.”_

Bilbo’s back felt like it’d been hit by ice. He screamed, banging his head on the floor.

_“Kili! Kili, stop! You’re killing him!”_

Whatever Kili did, it stopped. Bilbo trembled, his back aching. He gasped for air, tears trailing down his cheeks. He flinched away from a cold touch on his cheek.

 _“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that would happen,”_ Kili said. _“I was just trying to possess you so I could talk to Uncle. I’m so sorry, Bilbo.”_

 _“Bilbo, are you okay?”_ Fili asked.

“Hurts…it hurts…”

 _“Mahal above, I’m so sorry Bilbo!”_ Kili said.

“Get up,” Thorin ordered. Bilbo shook his head. “Get him up.”

_“Uncle, you ass! Can’t you see he’s in pain?!”_

_“I don’t think he cares.”_

Two guards gripped Bilbo’s arms, pulling him back up to his knees. One gripped his hair, forcing him to look at Thorin.

“Did you steal the Arkenstone?” Thorin asked.

“Yes,” Bilbo said.

“Did you give it to my enemies?”

“I would hardly call them enemies at this point. You fought alongside them in the battle, did you not? Which brings us back to what this is really about: you want to make me a scapegoat because of what happened to Fili and Kili! You don’t want to face the truth because _you_ are the ones who _killed them_!!”

“DON’T SPEAK THOSE NAMES TO ME!!!” Thorin bellowed. “YOU’VE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK OF THEM, HALFLING!!!”

“I’M NOT HALF OF ANYTHING, NOGOTH!!!”

The shouting grew, insults hurled at Bilbo. A guard slammed his fist in Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo stumbled again, coughing. He spat blood out and met Thorin’s rage with his own.”

 _“That was pushing it, Bilbo,”_ Fili said, voice thick as jam.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Fili, I didn’t. But I’m tired of him treating me. That…name and the one he keeps calling me are at the same depth. It’s long deserved.”

 _“We know,”_ Kili said. _“We just…wish there was another way you could have addressed it.”_

Bilbo shook his head. “I’m already damned. What’s the point of politeness now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nogoth or nogothrim (?) is a variation of “naugrim” which is Sindarin for “the stunted ones.” Very insulting. Equivalent to our own N word, but I imagine that “Halfling” is very similar, so…I can see Bilbo getting fed up with Thorin’s shit and saying this.


	4. Chapter 4

Ori pulled dusty tomes off the shelves—anything that had to do with ghosts and earthbound spirits. Aiding Balin was far more productive than doing nothing and watching Bilbo be unjustly condemned. He didn’t agree with Thorin’s actions…

Bilbo was his friend as were the princes.

He didn’t think Thorin was mad anymore, but he was certainly grieving. Balin had told him that the last time he was so irrational was when his sister had died. Before that, it was when he learned of his brother’s death in the Battle of Azanulbizar.

He had guessed that Thorin wouldn’t take to losing his nephews well and being the last of his line…

No one liked being alone, but Thorin feared it more than most.

It didn’t excuse his actions toward Bilbo, though. Nor did it excuse Bilbo’s, but this trial was unjust. A mockery. A way for Thorin to deal without really grieving…

Ori opened a book blowing dust off the pages, carefully drawing a finger against the pages.

“You’re still here?”

Ori didn’t look up.

Dwalin sighed. “I know we’ve been fighting a lot, Ori, but can you please explain to me why you took out my bead?”

Ori’s hands shook and his eyes pricked. “I’m not going to marry someone who would let an innocent die for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“He stole the Arkenstone.”

“He had a good reason,” Ori snapped, closing the book and putting it back. “Besides, these trials that Thorin is putting Bilbo through have nothing to do with the stone. It’s about Fili and Kili. Bilbo had been nothing but loyal to Thorin through the whole journey and if _this_ is how he treats his most loyal friends, then he is not worthy of my own loyalty. You said you won’t help him, so I will.”

“And that requires breaking our engagement?” Dwalin asked.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to divide your loyalty between me and Thorin,” Ori snapped. “Besides, if being a traitor is what helps Bilbo—”

“Ori, I didn’t mean that,” Dwalin said, reaching for Ori’s arm. His fingers barely brushed against the fabric of his sleeve and Ori pulled away as though scalded.

He couldn’t look at Dwalin.

If he did, he knew he’d break down.

He didn’t want to leave him, but he couldn’t betray Bilbo. He couldn’t leave their Hobbit to die, so when Balin told him that Bilbo was hearing Fili and Kili, he jumped at the opportunity to help him.

He didn’t know how this would help, to be honest, but if Bilbo needed information about earthbound spirits, then Ori would provide it.

“Mizimel,” Dwalin whispered. “Ori, I love you.”

“I know.”

Mahal, he didn’t want to leave Dwalin. He loved him, but this…he couldn’t be with someone who’d let their friend die an unjust death.

It was wrong and any respect he had for Thorin died when he had Bilbo arrested. He was no king, not to Ori. He was a tyrant, a madman.

“Then give me a better reason,” Dwalin said. “Ori, Thorin is more than just my king, he’s my best friend.”

“And Bilbo never was a friend?”

“Ori—”

“ _No_ ,” Ori snapped, looking up.

Whatever else he was going to say died in the back of his throat. Dwalin looked so heartbroken. Ori wanted to apologize for taking the bead out, for smoothing out the braid Dwalin put in…He averted his gaze again.

“I’m not betraying Bilbo and I could never call Thorin a friend anyway. If _this_ is what he does to his friends, then I don’t want to be known as one.”

“Ori, he’s grieving.”

“Funny way to grieve,” Ori scoffed, “Killing someone who might actually be able to help you overcome your grief or will be there for you when it swallows you whole. Bilbo was good for him and now he’s destroying anything that could come out of that friendship.”

“Ori, what is going on between them is between them. Thorin might change his mind.”

“No, he won’t. He’s as stubborn as an ass and just as stupid.”

“So you’re going to let what he’s been doing decide what our relationship will be?” Dwalin asked. “Ori, I love you and I want you to be my husband. I want to wake up with you being the first I see in the morning and the last I see before I go to sleep at night. Mizimel, we’ve been through so much all ready. Why are you letting what is between Bilbo and Thorin be what breaks us apart?”

Why indeed?

After all the secret meetings, and the skirting around their brothers, and the many, many sleepless nights since they met when Ori tried to break Nori out of prison…

After all the anger and the fighting, after the awkward confessions and battles…

Why?

“Because I’m angry with you,” Ori said. “Because I don’t understand how you can remain loyal to Thorin when he has been nothing but horrible to Bilbo even though Bilbo had done nothing to deserve his hate.” He bit his lip and took a shaky breath. “Because I’m afraid that if our positions were reversed you’d let Thorin kill me.”

Dwalin pulled him into a hug. “I wouldn’t. Ori, I wouldn’t.”

Ori closed his eyes and let the tears that had long threatened to fall trial down his cheeks.

“Mizimel, I would never let you be harmed. If I could help Bilbo, I would. But there is nothing we can do that will not get us in trouble, too. I know he was your friend, Ori, and I wish there was something I could do to help him but there isn’t anything that can be done. I am sorry, mizimel.”

Ori hid his face in Dwalin’s chest, shoulders shaking.

How could anyone think Thorin was just?

#

_Ghosts, or earthbound spirits, can be either benign or malignant. They are incapable of moving on due to a number of reasons, usually unfinished business. They are usually souls born of a violent or an unjust death. Many of these spirits are those who died in war or battle. Sometimes they are the murdered, the lost, those who took their own life…_

_Other times, spirits cannot move on because they have been cursed. How they are cursed varies. It can range from angering magical entities, such as the Valar, Elves, Wizards, Dragons…_

Balin leaned back in his seat, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

How was he supposed to help Bilbo when he couldn’t find anything to explain why the princes were still here? Maybe his friend was going mad…but there was no madness in his eyes when he told Balin about his hearing apparitions.

He turned a page, skimming the text. He paused, rereading the sentence:

_All who fall under the cursed lure of gold are cursed for always and eternity…_

“Mahal,” he whispered.

_…but no curse will be the same. No retribution will be the same…_

_…Those who are cursed by the gold-madness may be cursed differently depending on the situation…_

_…could include being earthbound after death, waiting for release but unable to obtain it due to the madness of the one they call king…_

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Mahal have mercy on us.”

#

The fire cracked and sparks flew. He stared at it as though it could baptize him. His hands trembled as he raised a glass to his lips.

He’d lost so much. He lost everyone. His grandfather and brother were slaughtered in Moria. His father had disappeared and who knows what happened to him after that. His wedded-brother was murdered on the road guarding a caravan. His sister was claimed by consumption.

Now his sister-sons.

His lads. Both far too young, but eager to please. Eager to prove themselves as men. He hadn’t wanted them to come, but they were stubborn and he knew that stubbornness.

He should have been firmer in why he wanted them to stay behind. He should have told them it was for the best that they stay behind.

Perhaps if he did, they’d still be alive.

Thorin took another drink, letting it burn his throat.

Maybe he should listen to Balin and pardon Bilbo. But each time he saw him, his anger bubbled. He didn’t know what it was about the Hobbit that set him off. Bilbo had done nothing to him.

He didn’t deserve his anger.

Thorin stood, teeth grinding.

How he _hated_ the Halfling! He hated how he always challenged his authority! He hated how his nephews seemed to hang off his words! He hated how he effortlessly won over his company!  He hated him with such passion, he couldn’t even properly pinpoint _why_ he really hated Bilbo Baggins!

How _dare_ the Halfling insult him so callously, so harshly, in front of his people!

But hatred, he loathed to admit, was not enough to get rid of him. The robbery had been quite convenient for him.

The fire flicked and cracked. Papers flew off the wall. The tent ripped. Thorin dropped the glass in his hands and fell to his knees, arms over his head, filled with such terror as he had never felt before.

When it had passed, heart still hammering in his chest, Thorin looked up. His eyes widened at the tears in the tent, the scratches on his wooden table, the ink splattered on his papers, written in the dirt:

_LET HIM GO_

_LET HIM GO_

_LET HIM GO_

_LET HIM GO_

_LET HIM GO_

_LET HIM GO_

Thorin stood on trembling feet, tracing the letters with his fingers.

Kili’s handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Mizimel=jewel of jewels


	5. Chapter 5

“The gold madness did this?” Bilbo asked.

“I think so, aye,” Balin answered. “Bilbo, this is bad. If it is because of the madness, then Fili and Kili might be able to move on until the rest of us die.”

“So we’ll all be joining each other in the afterlife?” he asked. Balin nodded. Bilbo bumped his head against the wooden beam. “Great.”

_“Ask him if Thorin’s changed his mind or if he’s been acting different.”_

Bilbo glanced in Kili’s direction. “Why?”

_“Just ask.”_

Bilbo slumped his shoulders as best he could and asked Balin Kili’s question. Balin shook his head.“If he is I’ve not noticed anything yet,” Balin said. “But I’ll check. Why?”

“Kili wants to know. I’m _guessing_ he did something he probably _shouldn’t_ have.”

“That’s another thing I’m curious about,” Balin said. “How can you hear them? Are you a medium, Bilbo? You wouldn’t have been judged, we’d have found it useful.”

Bilbo shook his head.

“I don’t _know_ how I can hear them,” he admitted. “I’ve never heard the dead before. Not in the Shire, not when we were on the road, or running from the dragon…it wasn’t until they died and I was arrested that I started hearing them. Our best bet at finding an answer would be to ask Gandalf if we can.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Balin said. “Thorin banned him from Erebor lest he face the same fate you do. Maybe if we found another wizard…”

“At this point?!” Bilbo shouted. “It’s impossible! I just want to go home! I want to live my life and go back to the way things were before you lot interrupted my life and dragged me across all of Middle Earth to steal from a _dragon_!”

They stared at each other: Bilbo with fury and Balin with remorse.

Bilbo lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“I think you’re well within rights to be angry, Bilbo,” Balin said. “You’re a kind hearted man, and exceedingly patient. I’ll never understand how you managed to always bounce back from the cruelty Thorin and the company have shown you.”

“Not all of you were cruel,” Bilbo said, smiling. “At least _half_ of the company befriended me from the beginning. You I consider one, the princes too, Oin, Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Ori, and Dori…I don’t think I’d have been able to hold on as long as I did if not for you and them.” Bilbo shook his head. “Thorin’s…I don’t know. He’s _insane_. No offense.”

“None taken,” Balin said. “But you’re wrong, Bilbo. He’s not looked at the gold since the battle ended. He’s just mourning.”

“This is _not_ the action of someone in mourning, Balin,” Bilbo said. “We’ve both seen mourning before. There’s crying, there’s waling, there’s screaming, and, yes, there’s anger. But in the end, death is not repaid with death. Most people would hold onto someone they still have. Thorin is not doing that. Are you certain you want to give your loyalty to someone who would turn on his own friends? Because toward the end of our journey, he _did_ consider me a friend, Balin. Friends don’t turn on each other like this.” Bilbo bowed his head, biting his lip and trying to stem the tears wanting to flow. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Balin did not answer him. Bilbo guessed he could not.

 _“We aren’t going to let Uncle go through with this, Bilbo,”_ Fili said. _“Kili and I are trying to get through to him and Kili thinks he might have. He went to go see…Kili, anything?”_

_“No. I’m not sure I’m really getting the hang of this. The message I left him disappeared.”_

_“What?”_

_“I thought that sort of thing just stays there and can’t be gotten rid of or something…”_

_“Maybe it takes more time.”_

_“We don’t have time! Uncle’s just saying what he saw last night was because he was drunk!”_

_“Was he?”_

_“Yes.”_

“Thanks for trying anyway,” Bilbo said to all three without looking up.

“I’m not going to stop trying, Bilbo,” Balin said. “Not until there is nothing more I can do.” He left.

Bilbo licked his lips. “I might curse myself more for this, but I’m not going to forgive him.”

_“Bilbo?”_

_“Whatever it is you’re going to say or do, don’t,”_ Fili said. _“Bilbo, we’ll find a way. There has to be a way to get you out of this situation. We’ll find it. Don’t give up hope yet.”_

“I’m done forgiving. I’m done being walked on by that _ingrate_.”

_“Bilbo…”_

“If we are cursed to wait until they die, then I will make those years count, repay insult for insult and death for death. He hates being alone. He’ll know loneliness before the end.”

Silence. He was certain Fili and Kili did hear him.

 _“I’m with you, then,”_ Kili said.

 _“NO!!”_ Fili shouted. The wind howled and Bilbo shivered from the cold. _“I know you’re angry! I’m angry too, but what good will vengeance do?! Haven’t we learned enough that it brings nothing but destruction on those we care for?!”_

Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t do it anymore.”

_“Bilbo—”_

“Stop. _Just_ stop. I’ve had enough and I am not going to spend my afterlife trying to forgive someone who has wronged me so many times that I can’t begin to imagine why I even tried to be his friend. I’m done.”

Then silence.

True silence and Bilbo fell into it with bliss.

The only thing sending shivers up his spine was waiting for Thorin to send him to the block.

#

After his hands were locked in place to the metal ring on the ground and his bag removed, Bilbo shifted as best he could so to stand a little straighter, metaphorically speaking.

Amidst the insults hurled at him, Bilbo managed to pick out his friends in the crowd, strangely silent and worry marring their faces.

Thorin approached, sitting on the throne. The audience silenced and bowed, Bilbo would not, meeting Thorin’s eye.

 _“Just repeat what we say,”_ Fili said, _“but if you feel this,”_ Bilbo felt a stinging chill against his left cheek. _“Don’t say what we do, okay?”_

“Okay,” Bilbo whispered, never tearing his gaze from Thorin and the trial began with a listing of the so called crimes Bilbo had committed.

“I did steal the Arkenstone,” he said by Fili’s dictation. “But I fail to see how insubordination, conspiracy, treachery, and murder fit into any of this. Have I ever disobeyed a command you gave on the journey? If not, then I have not been insubordinate. I never conspired against anyone save in hopes of saving lives. As I am not a Dwarf and you are not _my_ king, I can hardly be held on grounds of treachery. Lastly, I’ve never killed anyone. You’re nephews _died in battle_. These trials, as you well know, or should know, dishonor their memory. Way I see it, you’re just looking for a reason to kill me. To paint me out to be the worst criminal ever to grace your presence. And I wonder what sort of image that will leave you in the records of history, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Balin turned to Thorin, whispering in his ear. Thorin snarled but nodded. He looked at Bilbo. “You plead not guilty?”

“Only for the crimes I have not committed,” Bilbo corrected. “And many of the ones you’ve listed were not committed at all. However, I will plead guilty for the theft of the Arkenstone. I did steal it.”

“Why?”

“To avoid war,” Bilbo said. “To protect those I care about even from themselves. Except now, I realize…”

 _“Bilbo what are you doing?”_ Fili asked, touching his cheek. His touch was joined by another touch to the right cheek.

 _“Shut up before you ruin your chances!”_ Kili added.

“…that nothing can save you from yourself and your own desire for destruction. Your madness will be your undoing and I ask you to at least consider what good may come from killing me. Because that’s all you’re looking for: an official reason to kill me. Why? Just getting it over with is not enough? I’ve done nothing to you, Thorin. Nothing that deserves this anyway.”

Thorin sent him away after that, anger radiating off him as Bilbo was led back to his prison.

 _“Damn it, Bilbo, we could have gotten you out of this mess unscathed if you just_ listened _to us!”_ Fili shouted.

“I don’t see how,” Bilbo said. “Thorin’s not being objective and the decision is not being made by jurors. He is judge, jury, and executioner. It’s hopeless.”

_“Only if you give up!”_

“Well, I guess I’ve given up, then!” Bilbo shouted. “Just go away! Leave me alone! I just—I _need_ to be alone right now, lads. So, go. Just go.”

#

Fili strode out of the tent with Kili right behind him. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Fili, I know you’re angry and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be, but maybe it won’t be so bad once all this is over—”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Fili snapped, turning on him. “Do you really think it’ll end with Bilbo? If not, then shut up. I’m going to knock sense in our fool uncle if I can.” He spun on his heel and arrived at Thorin’s tent. Thorin was pouring himself a drink.

“Fili, I tried this already,” Kili said, trying to reason with him. “It won’t work. Thorin isn’t being rational.”

“You said you managed to write on the desk, scratch a message on it?”

“Yes.”

Fili approached Thorin. His hands trembled as he reached for Thorin’s shoulders. They went right through him and the worse that happened was Thorin shivering.

“Can you hear me?” Thorin did not move. Not even turn his head, nor give a verbal confirmation that he could hear Fili. Fili shook his head. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that. And a hypocrite. You preach loyalty and honor but you have none of it yourself. I don’t understand how you can let an innocent die, let alone be the one who causes it. I looked up to you, Uncle. I wanted to be like you for so long and now I’m glad I never will be.”

Thorin moved to a seat, raising the glass to his lips. Fili scowled.

“What you’re just going to wallow in alcohol and anger? Going to just…let go the same way you did when Mum died?”

“What?” Kili asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Fili said. “You were still very young then.” He turned back to Thorin, hair whipping his face. “Why do you hate him so much? Even when you were closest to him, there was…something in the way you looked at him, like you wanted to tear him apart when he’s been nothing but kind to you. If you kill him, you’ll only let him win. He is planning to _destroy_ you now, Thorin. You are making him into someone else. Don’t you see that? Just…Uncle, please, let him go.”

Thorin took another drink, leaning back and shielding his eyes from whatever light there was and biting his lip. Fili shook his head.

“You’re pathetic.”

He strode toward the tent flap, shoving the table as he did so. It shifted about an inch and the items on it clattered, startling Thorin, but not much else. Kili followed, glancing behind him.

“I’ll never understand how you can remain so calm,” he said. “Were it me, I’d probably have tried to possess him just on principle alone.”

Fili didn’t respond, leaning against a tree. Would any of this happen if they didn’t die? He closed his eyes, wishing he could’ve lived if only to see his child when Tora came, to claim her child as his own so that the world would know, _this_ was an heir of Durin, the son or daughter of Fili. Not being able to hold his baby when he desperately wanted to see their smile…

Kili and Bilbo wanted revenge, but what would they do if they found his baby? Fili didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to trust them, but with the anger…he just couldn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

Balin ventured outside the camp, a strip of white linen tied around his wrist, and entered the Men’s camp. The guards found him and brought him to Bard.

“What can I do for you?” the new King of Dale asked.

“I need to know if Gandalf is still with you. It has to do with Bilbo.”

Bard leaned in his seat. “I can’t do anything to help him,” he said. “Not without risking your king’s wrath. As much as I loathe admitting it, I cannot risk angering him. We need Erebor’s help in order to get back on our feet.”

“Thorin does not know I am here,” Balin said. “And he never will know. Something has…happened to the Hobbit and the wizard may have an answer to why it is happening.”

“What sort of thing?”

“I mean no disrespect, but I am not at liberty to say. At least not to you. The Hobbit wants Gandalf’s advice. That is all. If you know where he is…”

Bard sighed. “He’s here. I’ll take you to him.” Balin thanked him and followed Bard out of the tent to another. Within it, a wizard sat, smoking his pipe. Plumes of black, thunderous looking smoke floated above them. “Gandalf?”

He looked at them, eyes darkening when he saw Balin. “And what brings a Dwarf here?”

“Not everyone believes Bilbo’s trial is just,” Balin said. “But that is not why I am here.” Bard bowed out and Balin stepped forward, fingers brushing against the linen tied around his wrist. “Bilbo is hearing Fili and Kili. He says it’s their ghosts.”

“You believe him?”

“I do. Bilbo never lied to us unless he had reason to and while I admit I have my doubts, he sometimes…he’s been acting as though he _has_ been hearing things. So I looked into it and there seems to be a part about gold madness we missed.”

“If Bilbo speaks true, then you believe that the Company has been cursed,” Gandalf said. Balin nodded. “It’s likely. Tell me what you know.” Balin explained the texts he found and described Bilbo’s actions. “I need to know _exactly_ what Bilbo is hearing, whether he sees anything. Ask him if, when Fili and Kili speak, if their voices echo, if the is room chillier, or anything else that seems odd.”

“I can do that,” Balin said.

“Good,” Gandalf said. “That is good. How goes the trial?”

Balin shook his head. “What is happening to the lad is not justice. It’s a witch hunt.”

#

Bilbo answered the questions Balin posed to him, describing what it felt like to be almost possessed, the echo he heard when Fili and Kili spoke, how it never seems warm in the room with them, and more. Balin made a few more trips to Gandalf, always with more questions for Bilbo to answer.

Where Fili and Kili were now, Bilbo did not know. He only knew when they were with him. They come and go as they please. He doesn’t know where. Balin went back to Gandalf a couple more times before an answer was found.

“Gandalf thinks it might have something to do with a family in the Shire called the Grubbs, or something of that ilk,” Balin said. “Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “My paternal grandmother Laura was a Grubb. There were rumors that they were…odd, but it was never proven especially since they weren’t Took or Brandybuck odd. They were respectable but also fond of ghost stories. Not all ghost stories were scary though, some of the stories my grandmother told me and my cousins were actually quite fun to listen to. Not all lost souls are evil. Some are simply confused, ‘even those that look scary may just be scared themselves.’”

“Do you think it might be possible from your grandmother’s blood that you might be a medium?” Balin asked. “Gandalf thinks you are and that your powers just…woke up late.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t know. If so, why now? Why after Fili and Kili died?”

“Maybe your powers awaken when someone close to you dies.”

“Then I should have been hearing ghosts or seeing them after my parents died!” Bilbo shook his head. None of this made sense. Why now? If he was a medium, he should have come into his powers years ago when his parents died. Shouldn’t he have? Or wouldn’t he have been one his whole life since he was old enough…He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m a medium, Balin. I’d hear others, too. But I _don’t_.”

A breeze encompassed the room, and it felt slightly colder than before.

“Fili? Kili? Are you back?”

 _“We’re back,”_ Kili said. _“Are you all right, Bilbo?”_

He shook his head. “No. I’m not.” He explained Gandalf’s theory to them.

 _“He should be trying to get you out!”_ Fili snapped.

“He can’t,” Bilbo said. Balin looked at him strangely and Bilbo told him that the princes were back.

“Lads,” Balin said. “There is very little we can do for Bilbo at this point. It’s too late. Unless we sneak him out, he won’t survive. If we sneak him out, whoever helps him will face the same fate.”

“And I don’t want that to happen to any of our companions,” Bilbo said. “I don’t want to die, but I’ve come to terms with that I will die. It’s just sooner than I thought I would.”

_“Bilbo…”_

“Kili, don’t,” he said. “I want to sleep before morning, if I can. Last trial and all. I don’t see much point of trying to win it. Thorin’s intent to kill me, and I don’t know why and if we’re not moving on than the sooner the better, anyway. Please? Can you boys let me sleep?”

 _“Yes,”_ Fili said. _“We’ll let you sleep.”_

Balin bumped his forehead to Bilbo’s gently. “I am sorry, Lad. I wish there was more I could do for you. Sleep well if you can.” Bilbo nodded, tears trailing down his cheeks.

Sleep, again, eluded him.

#

This time it was just Thorin and Bilbo, no spectators save the guards, no open court. Just Thorin and Bilbo in Thorin’s tent.

“You could’ve just let me leave,” Bilbo said. “You’d never have to see me again. Wouldn’t that have been preferable to this whole mess?”

“You haven’t the right to ask any questions of me,” Thorin snarled.

Bilbo glared at him. “Actually, Thorin, I do. I don’t know what it is I did to you to make you hate me so much, but whatever it is, does it really merit death? Or do you just want to make me suffer more than I already have?”

“Shut up,” Thorin growled. “You took my nephews from me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“I’m not talking about their deaths,” he said. “I will always curse the day Gandalf insisted you be our burglar. I regret bringing you along. You stole my family from me.”

“So you don’t like that your nephews became friends with me? What madness goes through your head that you’d deny your kin friends? Don’t you hear yourself? Thorin, kill me or let me go, I only reached out to Fili and Kili because they reached out to me first. None of what happened on the journey has ever been my fault. You can pretend this has to do with the Arkenstone, but your anger and your jealousy will only kill you in the end.”

Thorin sighed. “It will go away once you are gone.”

“Why not just let me go, then? Like I said, I wouldn’t matter if you just let me go. You’d never have to see me again, so why go through all this trouble?”

“Because it’s not enough to just let you go. The others would still seek after you, visit, their loyalties ever divided. If I just killed you’d be a martyr to my people, and I cannot let that happen.”

Bilbo shook his head. “You’re insane,” he whispered. “Fine, kill me then. But it’s not going to change anything because the Company will know the truth, Thorin. That you murdered me. If you can live with that, then fine.”

“You’d willingly go to the block?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Thorin sneered. “I sentence you to death by beheading. You have until dawn tomorrow to make your peace. And I will allow those in the company who would like to see you before then.”

Thorin called for the guards and they dragged Bilbo back to his tent. He tried to keep from crying, because, really, what was the point of tears now?

 _“Bilbo?”_ Kili asked. _“Bilbo what happened?”_

_“What did Thorin say?”_

“I’m to be beheaded in the morning,” he said. For several minutes, all he felt was the dropping chill. “What’s it like? Dying?”

 _“We can’t say what it’ll be like for you,”_ Fili said. _“It’s different for everyone. But for us, since wed died in battle, we just…remembered our last moments and the screams of our dying comrades…”_

 _“Then we woke up,”_ Kili said. _“It was confusing at first. We didn’t know we were dead. I woke up on the field where I died, went to camp, found Fili shouting at everyone because no one could hear him. We didn’t know we were dead at first. Not until Uncle went to our…our bodies.”_

 _“Bilbo, maybe you weren’t affected by the curse,”_ Fili said. _“Perhaps you can move on.”_

“I doubt it,” Bilbo said. “But it’s a nice thought, nonetheless.” His tears stung and his nose congested to the point he couldn’t breathe save through his nose. In an odd sense of vanity, he guessed he looked dreadful and laughed at how he cared.

The first to come was the brothers Ur.  Bofur knelt to his knees and embraced Bilbo and cleaned his face as best he could with the ratty handkerchief he gave Bilbo all those weeks ago. Bombur brought food, but it was left untouched. Bifur tried to unlock Bilbo’s wrists from their shackles, mumbling under his breath. Bofur translated as best he could.

_Get out, get to the men’s camp, there will be a pony waiting—_

Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t leave. I can’t let you take the fall for me,” he managed to smile at Bifur. “But thank you anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have to die! This is madness!”

“I know, but what else can be done?”

“Bilbo,” Bofur said, cupping his face in his hands. “It’s not too late. If you leave tonight, you can escape. We don’t mind taking your place.”

“But I _do_ mind,” Bilbo said. “I can’t let you risk Thorin’s anger. It’s too much.”

The flap opened and Oin came in with Dori and Ori behind him. “Gloin…wanted to come, but he’s been busy dividing the treasure…” Bilbo managed a smile. He didn’t think he had a friend in Gloin, but it was a nice thought.

Ori joined Bofur in embracing him, weeping on Bilbo’s shoulder. Dori sat with Bifur. Balin came last and the room filled with their warmth, almost beating back the chill Fili and Kili brought. Bilbo began to sing, voice soft and almost unheard.

_So gentle the sea breeze that ripples the bay_

_Where the stream joins the ocean, and young children play_

_On a strand of pure silver, I’ll welcome each day_

_And I’ll roam forever more, the White Island_

_Oh Isle of my childhood I’in dreaming of thee_

_As the schooner leaves the Haven and crosses the Sea_

_Soon I’ll capture the magic, that lingers for me_

_When I’m back, once more upon the White Island_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of the song Bilbo sings are to the tune of the Scottish song “The Dark Island” and also features some of the lyrics to it. It’s heavily based on the second verse, but changed a little bit to match the setting of Middle Earth.
> 
> Here's a URL to the song:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76kHRG96ciE


	7. Chapter 7

One by one, his friends left. Balin remained until nightfall. He pressed a kiss against Bilbo’s forehead. “I am sorry I could not be much help.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I’m not angry at you, Balin. I’m angry at Thorin.”

Balin sighed. “I hope you manage to move on, Bilbo.”

Bilbo chuckled. “And wait on the other side for all of you?” he asked. “Where’s the fun in that?” Balin knocked their heads together.

“Until we meet in the halls of our fathers,” Balin said.

“If your fathers will allow me,” Bilbo said, offering him a fake smile which was unreturned. Balin left and Bilbo pressed his head against the beam. “Are you two still here?”

 _“We are here,”_ Kili said.

 _“If only we could untie your hands,”_ Fili said. _“And that you had your magic ring.”_

“What happened to it?”

 _“Our uncle has had all your belongings burned when he seized you,”_ Kili said.

 “You know, I had forgotten about the ring in all this mess.” He wiggled around, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “And perhaps it would not matter.”

_“Do you have it with you?”_

“No. Like you said, everything was taken and burned,” Bilbo said. He gently bumped his head against the pole. “The ring might have survived that, but I doubt it.”

_“Perhaps if we find it—”_

“No.”

_“Bilbo—”_

“ _No_ ,” he stressed. “Fili, Kili, I’m tired. I just want this to be done and over with. I’m ready for this to be over. So please, stop trying to help me and let me be done with it all. I’d like to sleep now, if I can.”

He closed his eyes. He dreamt of the Shire, all green hills and blue sky. He saw Bag End, as beautiful and homely as he remembered it, smelling of the pine wood and mahogany his father used to build it. He wondered what became of it, hoping his greedy relatives never got their hands on it.

He dreamt of his parents, who he had not mourned properly for many years.

_Don’t give into your anger. Don’t become what you are not…_

The dream shifted to a stone archway and a black cavern.

_The way is shut._

Bilbo touched the stone.

_The way is shut._

He stepped into the black cavern, following a blue-silver wisp deeper into the cavern.

_It was made by those who are Dead._

He entered an underground city, long abandoned.

_And the Dead keep it—_

Bilbo was shaken awake, his hands unbound. The guards forced a bag over his head and he was dragged out of the tent. The cold morning air stung Bilbo’s skin and his feet crunched against snow under his feet. They stopped and his hands were bound behind him. They forced Bilbo to the ground, his neck pressed against a cold stone block.

“Get it over with then,” he said. “Please.”

He closed his eyes, trying to relax. Waiting was the worst part of knowing you were going to die. He exhaled once, heard the executioner lift the ax and the swing—it only pinched.

He opened his eyes. The guards were wrapping his body in linen. Blood seeped where his head had been attached to it and the head itself was in the bag. Thorin approached the guards.

“Burn it,” he said. The guards bowed and Bilbo’s body and head were carried to a pyre. Bilbo watched them light it and toss the body into the fire. He stood by Thorin.

“You never really answered my questions,” he said. “Would it be so hard to just tell me why you hated me so much?”

“So you weren’t spared the curse either.”

Bilbo turned around, Fili and Kili stood behind him, sorrow apparent on their faces. He looked at his hands. “I suppose I wasn’t."

“Bilbo,” Fili took his hands in his. “I know you’re angry. You’ve every right to be, but whatever vengeance you want, let it go.”

“Let it go?!” Bilbo snapped, pulling his hands free from Fili’s. “You want me to forgive your uncle again? I told you: I’m _done_ forgiving him.”

“This isn’t like you,” Fili said. “I’m angry too, but I fear what will happen to us if we give into our anger.”

Bilbo glared at him and turned on his heel intending to leave. He ended up in the great hall.

Construction was already under way.

“Pity the Halfling’s execution was a private affair,” one said to another. “I would have loved to be there.”

“Same here,” said another.

“You don’t think something was off about it?” a third asked. “Seemed off to me. But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“He murdered the princes and stole the Arkenstone,” the first growled. “Are you pitying him?”

“No, of course not,” the third said. “I’d never side with a traitor and murderer if that’s what he was.”

Bilbo fled for the library, looking for Ori. A familiar, friendly face might just calm him down. Ori was sitting at a desk, a book open in front of him. He wasn’t paying attention to it. Instead, he was staring at a braid in his hair and the bead it bore.

“You know, you’re usually too busy working to play with your hair,” Nori said, coming out of the shadows and leaning against the desk.

“We should’ve done something. Hang the consequences,” Ori said.

“Bilbo never asked for help,” Nori said.

“You said you’d help him,” Ori accused, glaring at his brother.

“If he asked,” Nori said. “Which he never did. If he said, ‘get me out of here, I want to live,’ I would have gotten him out as fast as I could. We all would have.”

“No,” Ori said, turning back to his braid. “Not all of you.”

Nori looked at it. “Dwalin? Having second thoughts?”

Ori nodded. “And third. And fourth. Something just…it doesn’t seem right.”

“He loves you, you know,” Nori said. “Dori and I might not like him, but we can tolerate him. It’s your choice, though. Do you love him?”

“Of course I do,” Ori said. “But I won’t be loyal to a king to will kill the only real friend he probably had. Bilbo could have been so good for him if Thorin got past his pettiness to see it. Bilbo could have helped him through his grief if Thorin just _let_ him.”

Nori didn’t answer for a while. “Back to your engagement, Ori,” Nori said. “Can you marry him with all this doubt in you? I might not know much about marriage, but I do know that you should be able to trust your spouse.”

“And that, I believe, is the root of the problem,” Ori said. “After Bilbo’s arrest, and Dwalin’s refusal to stop it, I’ve had nothing but doubt. I love him, but I don’t trust him the same way I used to. Nori, I don’t think I can do this.”

“You’re certain it’s not cold feet?”

“Yes, I’m certain,” Ori sighed, still playing with the braid. “I can’t marry Dwalin. I don’t trust him anymore. He’s too loyal to Thorin.”

“You’re going to break his heart.”

“And mine’s broken already,” Ori said, close his eyes. Tears slipped past his lashes and trailed down his cheeks. “Either way, we’ll both be miserable.” Nori embraced him, petting his hair and rocking him.

Bilbo left them. He didn’t know Ori and Dwalin were in love, but in a way, he guessed he could have seen it if he wasn’t so preoccupied keeping him and everyone else alive. Dwalin was quite protective of Ori throughout the journey.

He left the library, wandering aimlessly through the halls. A few saw him and when he tried to talk to them, the disappeared in the walls. He wondered why other ghosts would flee. Did they run from Fili and Kili too? Did the brothers ever come across them?

Well, if they didn’t want to talk to him, that’s their business, he decided angrily.

He saw Dwalin striding down the hall and he followed him, wondering exactly where Dwalin’s loyalties lied. Ori may doubt Dwalin, but Bilbo didn’t have to. He could know.

Dwalin entered an office. “Balin?”

“Morning, brother,” Balin said, “Care for a drink?”

“This early in the morning? You’re not upset about the Halfling are you?”

“Far more than you are, I see,” Balin said, glaring at Dwalin. “You know, other than me, you have the most sway over Thorin’s decisions.”

“And it’s not our place to question those decisions.”

“Even at the cost of an innocent life?” Balin snapped. Dwalin didn’t answer and Balin shook his head. “There was no rhyme or reason for Thorin to kill him. If you want to ally yourself with a murderer, go ahead.”

“I am allying myself with my king. I thought we both were.”

“ _The Dwarf sitting on the throne is NOT my king!_ ” Balin shouted.

“Be careful what you say, Balin. That is border lining treason.”

“Why are you so loyal to him still? After everything he has done since we took back the mountain, why do you still think he’s the same boy you grew up with?”

“Because I have seen his anger before. I have been the brunt of it—”

“He’s never killed a friend before.”

“He never considered Bilbo a friend the same way we did. He was, and still is, irrationally jealous of him. Bilbo managed to connect to Thorin’s nephews in a way he never could.”

“Well you’re right about irrational.”

“This isn’t why I came to see you, Balin,” Dwalin snapped. “Can we _not_ discuss Thorin or Bilbo? Ori is pulling away from me and I don’t know what to do.”

Balin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bilbo circled the desk to get a better look at Dwalin. Bilbo had never seen any expression on his face save a glower or a snarl. He’d seen Dwalin laugh once or twice. But never had he seen the desperation now etched on Dwalin’s face.

“I’m sorry, Dwalin,” Balin said. “I don’t know how to help you with Ori. A fool could see you love him, but perhaps instead of talking to me you should talk to him.”

“I would if he’d talk to _me_. Do you not think I have tried?”

 _In love with one, but fiercely loyal to the other_ , he thought. Bilbo couldn’t see this ending well for anyone. It’d be entertaining to watch for a while, though. At least until it fell apart or worked out. Bilbo left Dwalin and Balin, wandering the stone halls again, wondering how long it would be until he could exact his revenge on Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilbo smirked.

That day would be glorious.

~End Part One~


	8. Chapter 8

_**PART THE SECOND** _


	9. Chapter 9

~Ten Years Later~

The halls were decorated in black and white. Jet lignite, schorl tourmaline, onyx, and obsidian were sewn into the black and white fabrics honoring the princes Fili and Kili. Servants bustled about to ready the annual feast set for the eve of the Battle of the Five Armies—the same battle which took the lives of so many Men, Elves, and Dwarves.

Each year, the King under the Mountain would host the feast in honor of his lost nephews—and in honor of all the dead who perished that fateful day. And yet, while the day was set aside for all who mourned the battle, only the King ever wore black year round.

 _A lonely king for the lonely mountain_.

Thorin had lost too much in his life to ever truly feel comfortable to let go of the past. The gold madness was still there, but a refusal to wear anything other than black with some white kept the worst of it at bay for nearly a whole decade. He could now admit that he might have been too harsh on the Halfling. From then, he vowed to let logic be his guide rather than emotions.

It helped.

Thorin prided himself a fair king. His nobles urged him to marry and have a child to give the throne to rather than pass it on to a more distant cousin. But Thorin had already gone through the line of Durin, seeking out a young Dwarf to train as his heir. He had decided on Gimli, Gloin’s son. The boy was of Durin’s line through his father, so he had legitimate claim to the throne as well.

He had long discussed the possibility with Gloin and while he wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea—Gloin and his son were both quite hotheaded, after all. Good men, but terribly temperamental…well, maybe it would work out after all. Most of Durin’s descendants were hotheaded.

“Hail the King!” a guard called when Thorin walked by, tugging his gloves on tighter in a short fit of nerves. Dwalin came up beside him.

“The Dwarves of Moria are coming. They should be here soon.”

“Good.”

Five years ago, Balin and a few Dwarves—most who did not like the way Thorin ruled Erebor—went to reclaim Moria. With the fall of Azog and his descendants in the Battle of the Five Armies, taking the mountain back had been fairly easy. They’ve lived there peacefully for nearly four of the last five.

“Will you be all right?” Thorin asked him.

Dwalin was usually tense when delegates from Moria came. He had nothing against the Dwarves, but the separation between him and his One still smarted. Balin’s leaving for Moria hurt him enough, but Ori’s decision to leave hurt more. Thorin always thought that putting that much distance between them was a low blow, but Ori would not be swayed. Even now, Thorin tried to persuade Dwalin to go after him. He did not make the decision to separate. Ori did. At times, Thorin felt responsible…

“I’ll get by,” Dwalin said, fingers brushing against the cuff on his wrist. He managed a rare smile. “Ori won’t come. He never comes.”

“Not even for his brothers?” Thorin asked. He couldn’t imagine Ori cutting off _everyone_ from his life because he didn’t want to see Dwalin.

“If he has, I’ve not seen him.”

“I can—”

“ _No_ ,” Dwalin snapped. “I appreciate your willingness to help, but it’s been ten years, Thorin. I’m over it.”

 _No you’re not_ , Thorin thought, wisely choosing not to call him out on the lie. Dwalin was harsher on his men than before. He was angry almost all the time. At least he wasn’t an insomniac like Thorin had become. There were too many times at night where Thorin woke up feeling a fear he _never_ felt before and never wished to feel again.

He tried to shake off the memories and voices that haunted him at night without being noticed. But Dwalin did notice.

“Still having nightmares?”

Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s been getting worse.” He scoffed. “I thought I saw Kili last night.”

“Thorin, you need to sleep.”

“Something won’t let me sleep!” he snapped, descending the battlements. “I don’t remember when I had a decent night’s sleep, Dwalin. I’ve been to the healers and I hope Oin comes so I can talk to him, but…” he shook his head. “So far nothing’s worked the way I hoped it would.”

He couldn’t tell Dwalin that he’s started seeing Bilbo as well. Kili was one thing.

Bilbo was quite another.

When it was Bilbo it was worse.

When it was Bilbo, the fear was greater, the pain he felt stronger, and the guilt pulled him under.

When it was Bilbo, he sometimes heard growling. Something would dig into his back and when it passed, he would have words on his back:

Murderer or killer, usually. Sometimes madman or oath breaker.

Thorin would be the last to admit it aloud, but he was scared—he was terrified.

A week ago, he woke up frightened in the night, trembling and barely able to walk to light the fire. When He managed to restart it, he almost screamed:

**_THIRTEEN LITTLE DWARVES WENT A-WANDERING_ **

**_THEN THERE WERE ELEVEN TO COME UNDONE_ **

**_ONE BY ONE THEY CAME A-FALLING_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

The ghastly poem was written in blood and accompanied by a handprint. Thorin ran from the room. He didn’t return until morning. The writing and the handprint was gone. He had tried to sleep in another room before to no avail. There was nowhere to hide from whatever it was haunting him.

A pair of guards were kneeling down, staring and talking to something. He and Dwalin approached.

“Look sharp, men!” Dwalin snapped. The guards jumped up, returning to their posts and revealing what had distracted them: a little boy with golden hair. He looked up at Dwalin and Thorin wide eyed. In his hands was a stuffed lion which Thorin recognized. It’d been decades since he saw it.

His blood drained from his face on seeing the toy and he looked at the child closer. His gold hair and blue eyes…

But he was the right age if he was conceived before the quest.

“Where are your parents, lad?” Dwalin asked.

“My daddy’s right here,” he said, pointing behind him. There was nothing there. “Mommy’s at the market.” He held the lion tighter to his chest. Thorin knelt down. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Víri.”

“Son of…”

“Everyone says I’m a mother’s son. They say it like it’s bad. But daddy’s here.”

“No,” Thorin said. “It’s not bad. What’s your mother’s name?”

“Tora.” He leaned in. “My daddy’s name is Fili, though,” he whispered. “But don’t tell Mommy I told you.”

“Then why are you telling us, Lad?”

“Daddy said its okay to.”

Thorin straightened. Dwalin tried to steady him. “Thorin?”

“I’m…I’m all right.”

“He might just be pulling our leg. He’s a little one. Probably doesn’t know better, let alone who Fili is or who we are.”

Thorin arched a brow. “He looks almost exactly like Fili. He’s carrying the same toy his mother made him as a babe. Fili used to carry it everywhere. I’d know it from a distance.”

“Thorin, Fili was not courting anyone,” Dwalin reminded him. “At least not that we know of.” Thorin looked at the boy again. He was playing with the lion again and making roaring noises with it.

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t courting at all,” he reminded him. “And if this boy _really is_ Fili’s son…”

“That would mean you have an heir. And one that is not old enough to take the throne if anything happens to you.”

Thorin shook his head. “Hopefully there’ll be time enough,” he said. He knelt to Víri’s height again. “Víri, may I meet your mother?”

“Why?”

“I would just like to talk to her. Is that all right?”

Víri nodded and took Thorin’s hand in his. Dwalin and another pair of guards followed, clearing a path for them. Víri let go and ran to a Dwarrowdam, calling out for her. She turned around and knelt embracing him.

“What have I told you about wandering off?!” she wept. “Víri, you scared me.”

“Daddy said it was just for a little while.”

“ _Who_ —Víri, I told you, Daddy’s gone.”

Dwalin cleared his throat and the Dam looked up at them and she paled. Her wiry hair was as blonde as the boys, her eyes were hazel brown and her beard styled in two braids over her chest. Her hair was braided close to her head in two head braids over her skull then one large braid down her back.

“Your majesty,” she said, curtsying. “Thank you for finding my son. I’m sorry for the trouble he caused.”

Thorin waved his hand. “It was no trouble at all,” he assured her. “But he said some things I would like to discuss with you privately. Such as whom his father is and where he got that toy.”

She blinked, glancing at her boy. Then she sighed. “At the palace?”

“Your home will do.”

“I’m afraid I’ve not much.”

“Madam, I was a blacksmith almost my entire life before I reclaimed Erebor. You would be surprised how little I have had to contend with in my years.”

She nodded and led them to her home. It was nothing better than a hole in the wall with a bed pushed to the wall, a small kitchen against one wall and a small wardrobe. In the center of the room was a rickety table and a couple chairs.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much, but I can make some tea, if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Thorin said, sitting at the table. “I would rather talk, Madam. Beginning with why your son looks so much like my nephew did at that age.”


	10. Chapter 10

_“I’m afraid there isn’t much, but I can make some tea, if you like.”_

_“No, thank you,” Thorin said, sitting at the table. “I would rather talk, Madam. Beginning with why your son looks so much like my nephew did at that age.”_

She looked at him and bowed her head. She sat across from him at the table. “He told me that his father was Fili. Is that true?”

“My lord, I will not lie,” she said. “It is true. Víri is Fili’s son.”

“He’s ten?”

“Nine. I found out I was pregnant before Fili left on the quest. And I told him I was with child. He promised to marry me when the mountain was retaken…to court me properly. We kept it secret because there were too many eyes on Fili in Ered Luin. Too many were vying for his attention in hopes of marrying into the line of Durin.”

“You didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t care for his titles or his land. I loved him regardless of those things. My parents would have approved only because it was convenient to them for me to marry a Durin. They didn’t know either and I was disowned when they found out I was pregnant.”

“You could have told them the truth.”

“Who would’ve believed me?” she asked, scoffing. “A miller’s daughter with a prince? It’s laughable.”

“His father was a musician,” Thorin said. “Why would I turn away a miller’s daughter?”

Tora shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Thorin leaned forward. “So the boy spoke the truth? He is Fili’s son?”

“Yes. He’s not supposed to say anything, but yes.”

“Víri told me that his _father_ told him to tell me.”

“Víri grew up on stories about Fili. He says he sees him, which is impossible, but for now, I let it be. There’s never been any harm in it so long as he never said who his father was. I don’t know what got into him telling you after all this time. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Keeping this secret for so long.”

“You had your reasons. I can understand why. You do know that this makes Víri an heir of Durin. He has legitimate claim to the throne of Erebor.”

Tora met his gaze. “He’s too young.”

“But you aren’t. Whatever, your situation is right now, I’m guessing it’s less than satisfactory. Let him be named Fili’s son. I will endorse this claim. You and your son don’t have to live here. I adopted my nephews, I’m not against adopting you and Víri into my house. I need an heir. I was going to have a cousin’s son take the throne, but this is far more convenient. All I need is your acceptance.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You are free to refuse,” Thorin said. “But I can’t think of any reason why you would choose poverty over comfort. Especially when you have a child. Trust me, having comfort makes raising a boy much easier.” He stood. “I will come back in a week for your decision.”

“I don’t have a week,” she said. Thorin arched a brow. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we’re about to lose our home. I can’t pay the rent and I recently lost my job and…” she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Thorin said. “When you’ve made your decision, come to the palace. We’ll be expecting you.” He left and nudged Dwalin. “Bring me the landlord who owns these…apartments.”

“Why?”

“We’ll discuss it later. Just bring him within the hour.”

Dwalin bowed and sent the guards to find who owned the place. “What do you intend to do about the woman and her son?”

“I’ve not decided yet, but if she’s telling the truth…”

“You’ll have an heir.”

“Two. It may take some embellishing, but the boy’s too young for the throne. His mother, however, is not.”

“You intend to train her?”

“Difficult, but not impossible and if she _is_ Fili’s One, well, no one will contest her right to the Throne by marriage.”

#

Thorin handed a bag to an elderly Dwarf. “This should cover Tora’s rent,” he said, watching the Dwarf’s face fall. “Is it not enough?”

“No, no! It is my lord.” He bowed and fled the room. Thorin glared at him and Dwalin scoffed.

“Probably was raising the rent to get the lass to bed him or something equally disgusting,” he growled. “Can’t do much now that she’s _protected by the king._ ”

“Indeed he cannot,” Thorin said. He turned to Dori. “Have the Dwarves of Moria arrived yet?”

“They have,” he said. “Balin is waiting for you in the throne room.”

“Is Ori with him?” Dwalin asked. Dori glared at him and Dwalin paled. “Just curious.”

 “Too curious for my liking.”

“I won’t do anything,” Dwalin promised. “I only want to talk to him.”

“Dwalin…”

“Dori,” Thorin said. “I think Dwalin deserves an explanation from Ori at the least. Don’t you?”

“That’s not my place to decide,” Dori said. “I am not the one calling the shots to whether or not Dwalin sees him. Ori asked me to keep Dwalin away and that is what I’ll do. I’m respecting my brother’s wishes and I think Dwalin should, too.” He turned to Dwalin. “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t want to see you. That’s the end of it. It hurt him to leave—”

“If it hurt, then why did he?” Dwalin shouted.

Thorin winced. His head swam and he grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself before he fell. Something growled in his head and his back ached. His vision blacked and he couldn’t open his mouth.

Then it passed. Dwalin and Dori stood over him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You fell,” Dwalin said. “Convulsed…Thorin, what is going on?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Dori said, pulling him up.

Dwalin supported his back, then pulled it away.

“What is it?” Dori asked.

Thorin looked at Dwalin, who stared at his hand. His face was grey. Dwalin showed them his hand covered in blood.

Dori pulled Thorin’s jerkin and tunic off.

“By the creator!”

“Thorin, what is this?” Dwalin demanded.

“What is what?” Thorin asked.

“ _You will know true loneliness before the end._ ”

“What?”

“That’s what it says,” Dori said. “Thorin, something _wrote_ on your back!”

“How long has this been going on?” Dwalin shouted.

“I don’t…”

“HOW LONG!!!” Dwalin bellowed. Thorin stared at him.

“Six months,” Thorin said. “Since my insomnia started. I sleep when I can.”

Dwalin sent Dori to get a healer—preferably Oin if he came. Dwalin helped Thorin to the bed, making him lie on his stomach.

“Dwalin, it will pass.”

“Thorin, six months is a long time to ignore something like this.”

“I wasn’t ignoring it. I was simply hoping it would stop. It wasn’t here before. Please, Dwalin, don’t tell anyone about this. Only the company can know.”

Dwalin stroked his beard, humming. “I don’t like this.”

“Do you think I do?!” Thorin snapped. The doors banged open and Oin strode in, Dori behind him with Balin.

“What happened?” Oin asked.

Dwalin explained as best he could and Thorin added in what he himself remembered before the scratches were discovered.

He looked at Balin. Balin looked pale, massaging his forehead and leaning against the wall. “Shall I summon the Company?” Dwalin asked.

“Yes,” Thorin said.

“Let me,” Balin said. “They’re more likely to listen to me, anyway.”

Thorin’s heart squeezed. Losing the trust of his companions was a low blow. Most had fled to Moria when Balin decided to take it back.

“Do what you must.”

Balin bowed, leaving the room to call for the others. At least he could find answers if they were all here to think about it.

At least, he hoped so.

_You will know loneliness before the end._

He was too terrified to wonder who or what would threaten him like this. He only wanted it gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Seeing the old company brought back memories, both fond and dark. Thorin didn’t like having his back turned to him, but since that was where the injury was, there was little he could do.

“ _Mahal have mercy_ ,” Bifur mumbled.

The most religious of the group would be signing Mahal’s sigil in the air. Thorin never understood the point of it. What had belief that Mahal could offer aid done them? It certainly didn’t help when his grandfather went mad. Nor did it help when the dragon came, or when they were wandering, or when his sister fell ill…

“When did this begin?” Gloin asked.

Thorin hated having to go back to when his insomnia came six months ago, but he did, telling them that this wasn’t the first time someone—or something—wrote on his back. He told them of the poem he found, seared into his brain. He tried to describe the terror that often gripped him in the darkness, stealing away his sleep.

He pulled on a fresh tunic and faced the group. Ori and Balin were exchanging looks and he narrowed his eyes.

“Do either of you have information that may help?” he asked them. Ori gasped and looked down. Balin’s mouth thinned.

“We do,” he said. “But we didn’t know it’d play out like this.”

“It might be Bilbo,” Ori said quietly.

“Bilbo is dead,” Gloin said.

“That doesn’t mean his spirit doesn’t linger,” Balin said. “Same as Fili’s and Kili’s…the gold madness caused a curse which everyone in this room is under.” He sighed. “When we die, we will not move on until the very last of us draws his last breath. For ten years Fili, Kili, and Bilbo would have been wandering these halls doing who knows what.”

 _My daddy’s right here_ , Víri had said.

The times he thought he saw Kili…

The times he saw Bilbo…

“The trials Bilbo was put through were unfair, Thorin. He did nothing wrong and you know it.”

“I do,” he said. “And I regret even acting on it. I was angry and I was mourning. And I was in the thralls of the madness. I know I should have let him go, but I hated him too much.”

“Why?” Bofur asked. “What did Bilbo ever do to deserve your hatred? He was the kindest, most forgiving man we knew. None of us deserved his friendship and he called us friends anyway. He called _you_ a friend. Why would you hate him?”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because I was jealous. I was jealous of his life, how easily he got along with you, how quickly he won over my nephews…many things.”

“Thorin, the boys loved you,” Balin said. “No one could have replaced you in their life.”

“Regardless, I still hated him. Perhaps it was irrational.”

“It _was_ irrational,” Oin harrumphed. “And if it _is_ Bilbo doing all this, we can’t say it’s not well deserved.” Thorin glared at him. Leave it to his cousins to resist sugarcoating.

“All right, I’ll admit that. Would it be possible to _maybe_ summon him or one of the boys?” Thorin asked. “Perhaps if I can talk to one of them, they might cease this madness.”

“I don’t know, Thorin,” Balin said. “Bilbo was terribly angry toward the end and knowing that he might not move on, well, he was bent on revenge. I fear what we’ll find if we risk it.”

“We could at least try,” Nori said.

“ _Or risk making it worse_ ,” Bifur said.

“I’d rather try,” Thorin said.

The apprehension in the room was seen on every face. Thorin knew he was pushing it. Calling on spirits was considered dark magic. But what else could they do?

Thorin stood. “Until then, is there anything I should do to keep…whoever it may be from attacking again?”

“Go to the temple,” Dori said. “You should be able to get a trinket there and there are a number of prayers that you could say.”

“Best if it’s a personal prayer though,” Bofur said. “Those work better because they’re from the heart rather than a piece of a paper.”

Thorin scrunched up his nose. Pray? To a deity that may have all but abandoned them? Thorin didn’t think he could do that. How did they know that the Valar even existed, let alone Aulë? What if they were just grappling for something to believe in for hope of having purpose when there simply wasn’t any purpose but those made for themselves?

But he went with Dwalin beside him. Dwalin looked angry, glaring at any who crossed him, but Thorin knew he was anything but angry. Irritable, sure, but not from anger. He couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling after seeing Ori again after so long.

“Go to him,” Thorin urged. Dwalin arched a brow at him. “What harm could befall me at the temple?”

“I’d rather not risk it.”

“You need to talk to Ori.”

“I do, but it can wait. This comes first.”

The temple was just above and near the center of the mountain. It’s darker than most of the mountain which has windows and balconies broken into the earth to let in light and fresh air. The temple smelled musty and close. Priests passed by in their black shawls and face covers, chanting prayers as they passed. Thorin approached the alter and clumsily signed the sigil of Mahal before kneeling.

He sighed, unsure what he was doing. He felt ridiculous. Foolish. He barely stayed a minute before standing and fleeing.

“Thorin!” Dwalin called, earning a few scathing looks from the priests, and followed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’ll handle it myself—”

“The others—”

“Can keep their faith!” Thorin shouted. “It has done me no favors and I doubt it will start to now!” Dwalin blinked and said no more.

“What will you tell them?”

“I went to the temple. I tried,” Thorin said. “That is all.”

He decided to distract himself and headed to the market. Thorin meandered there, looking for nothing in particular. He paused at a toy shop, staring at some of the figurines there. Most were too small for a child of Víri’s age, but there were a few he could give to his new-found nephew.

He had a family again…

He picked up a felt bear doll.

“What are you doing?” Dwalin asked, glaring at him. “Thorin, we don’t even know if the lass will accept.”

“This isn’t something I intend to do as their king,” he said, grinning. “I never was able to dote on Fili and Kili as much as I would have liked to. But I can certainly make up for that with Víri.”

Dwalin waved his hand in an if-you-insist manner. A rather confused shopkeeper took the pay and bowed, thanking Thorin for his patronage.

He didn’t know where he would find Tora if she wasn’t at her house, but it was a place to start. He found her there talking to one of her neighbors. Víri was by a few apple crates, Fili’s old lion toy in his hands and gathering dust from being brushed on the ground as he pretended that the lion could walk or run.

Tora and her neighbor bow when Thorin approaches. Both are surprised, but the neighbor is transfixed in awe. Tora, on the other hand, seemed slightly confused when Thorin greeted them.

“I thought I had a week…”

“You still do,” Thorin assured her. “But I thought I’d drop by.” He held the bear awkwardly in his hand. “I hope, even if you refuse, that you will not bar me from visiting you and the lad.” Tora shook her head, smiling.

“Víri would like that. Is that for him?”

“It is.”

“He’ll be ecstatic,” Tora said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. May I?”

“Of course, go ahead.” Dwalin turned to join him, but Thorin glared at him. “What are you doing? Mingle. I doubt the little rugrat will be able to do more than maybe bite at his most aggressive.”

“Bite?”

“Fili did it quite a few times. I can manage a nine year old. Now _mingle_ like the old lady you are,” Thorin patted his shoulder and grinned at Dwalin’s scowl. “Talk about knitting or whatever it is old ladies talk about.”

“If there wasn’t a kid here, I’d tell you exactly what you could go do to yourself.”

Thorin laughed, approaching Víri. The boy looked up and grinned. “You’re Daddy’s friend,” he declared.

“Yes,” Thorin said, kneeling down. “I came to say hello and brought a friend with me.” He held the bear out to Víri. “His name’s Beorn hand has been _very_ excited to meet you.”

Víri tilted his head to the side, confused. “Bearn?”

Thorin chuckled. “Close enough. Would you and…” he paused. The lion might have had a name change since it was put in Víri’s arms. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “What’s your lion’s name?”

“Aza,” Víri declared proudly. Thorin smiled. _Same name…_

“Aza, then. Would you and Aza like to play with him?”

Víri stared at the bear contemplatively before nodding. “Yes.”

Thorin put the bear in Víri’s hands. He heard something topple and looked at the crates. He snatched Víri up and jumped back as the boxes tumbled.

_How? What?_

“Víri!” Tora shouted, running toward them. He scanned the road, searching. He saw nothing and handed Víri back to Tora.

“Are you all right?” Dwalin asked.

“Yes,” Thorin said. “I’m fine. Find out who knocked into those crates.”

“Thorin, there’s no one here,” Dwalin said.

“Someone had to have knocked into them!” Thorin shouted.

“And yet it’s only _us_ ,” Dwalin said. “I’ve been keeping my eye open the whole time, Thorin. No one knocked into those crates.”

“Crates just don’t _fall_ , Dwalin!”

“No,” Dwalin agreed. “They don’t.” Thorin felt cold. If nothing knocked into them—and those crates were securely stacked from his eyes—then how did they fall?

He looked again and almost gasped.

Bilbo glared at them, staring at Thorin. He was translucent. His skin was decayed and there was a line around his neck where his head was severed. He kept staring, then his eyes locked with Thorin and they widened a little bit, as though realizing that Thorin saw him.

He smirked and winked before he turned on his heel and vanished.


	12. Chapter 12

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Tora asked, cradling Víri to her chest. Thorin massaged his forehead. “I mean, can you? It’s a ghost, isn’t it? But why Víri? Víri’s innocent.”

“It’s not because of the lad,” Dwalin said. “It’s our fault. The king…”

“I killed an innocent,” Thorin said. “And now I am paying for it.”

Tora stared at him. “You’re a good king,” she said. “The people have faith in you. You reclaimed Erebor.”

“I wasn’t always,” Thorin said. “I fear that it doesn’t matter how good of a king I am. Not to this…ghost. He was part of the company that reclaimed Erebor. Ten years ago, I became gold-mad. And then I lost my nephews. When that happened, I…I snapped. The Hobbit that traveled with us.”

“I was told he was why Fili died.”

“He wasn’t,” Dwalin said. “He was trying to save our lives.”

“I framed him. Named him a traitor, murderer, and thief,” Thorin said, looking at Tora. “I wanted to blame someone so badly and I was not ready to blame myself. So I blamed him and cut off his head after slandering his name in my anger and jealousy. I know I was wrong now. I didn’t know this would happen. I am sorry, Tora. I do not want anything to happen to Víri.” He shifted his gaze to Víri, sleeping peacefully in Tora’s arms. “You and your boy are precious to me, even if you do not wish to come live at the palace with me, I consider you both my family. A family I thought was long gone.”

Tora sat down, cradling Víri close. “If what you say is true, why is he getting his revenge now?”

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“We’re hoping to find out tonight,” Dwalin added. “Perhaps even get to the bottom of this and put it to rest.”

“We won’t let any harm come to you or Víri,” Thorin said. “I won’t stand for it. I can’t lose my family again. I won’t.”

Tora bit her lip. “Then I hope you can stop this before anyone gets really hurt.” Thorin and Dwalin stood and bowed, thanking her for her time.

“Bilbo better answer,” Thorin growled. “If he wants to attack me, very well, but I will not allow him to harm my nephew.”

“Noble words, but last I checked, ghosts can’t be killed with a sword,” Dwalin reminded him.

“I’ll figure something out!” Thorin bellowed. “Summon the company! We’re having that séance _now_!”

#

Séances usually work better with the aid of a wizard, but even then, wizards rarely dabbled in communicating with the dead. You never know what you’ll call and there’s always a risk of the spirit you call getting stronger. This was Balin’s fear, but still they grasped hands and began. They sat at a round table in one of the meeting rooms.  A large black candle stood in the center of it. Balin lit it.

 “Bilbo Baggins,” they whispered. The candle flickered. “Bilbo Baggins.” A banging on the walls nearly broke the circle, but they held on tight to each other’s hands. Three bangs. Then it stopped. Thorin glanced around at their faces. “Bilbo Baggins.”

The candlelight died. Plumes of grey smoke rose in the air. They waited. Nothing. No one uttered another word.

Balin cleared his throat. Bilbo, if you are here, please let us know.”

“We’re sorry, Bilbo,” Bofur added. “We should have tried harder.”

“Stop,” Thorin said. “It didn’t work.” He stood, breaking the circle. “We needed a wizard.”

“Perhaps it did.”

“Then why wouldn’t he tell us?!” Thorin shouted. “Why not let us know he was here? He didn’t come. Maybe we didn’t summon anything.”

“Or we did and you just let it out!” Dori shouted. “You could’ve given it a little more time!”

“Let’s not worry about what’s already done,” Balin said, getting up. “I’m going to have a little bit of a nightcap before bed. Being here again gives me chills.” He left. One by one, the others followed until it was only Thorin and Dwalin left.

“Now what?” Dwalin asked.

“Light the fire and go talk to Ori.”

“Thorin—”

“I will order you if I have to,” Thorin snapped, kneeling by the fireplace. He tossed coals inside and lit them, adding two logs to build the fire. “You need to talk to him. Dwalin, I feel as though it’s my fault he left you half the time and it would make me very happy if you at least found out why he left.”

He looked at Dwalin. Dwalin was staring above his head, eyes wide and his skin had gone green. “Dwalin?”

“Bilbo did come.”

“What?”

Dwalin pointed at the wall and Thorin stepped closer to stand by him before turning toward the wall.

**_THIRTEEN LITTLE DWARVES WENT A-WANDERING_ **

**_THEN THERE WERE ELEVEN TO COME UNDONE_ **

**_ONE BY ONE THEY CAME A-FALLING_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

**_UNTIL THERE WAS ONLY ONE_ **

“By Mahal,” Thorin said.

“Thorin…”

“Right, let’s get out of here,” Thorin said. They ran for the door. The door was sealed shut. Dwalin slammed his foot into it.

“Bloody Pit, what sorcery is this?!” Dwalin shouted. Thorin pulled him away from the door as a hand print appeared. “He’s still in the room!”

“Of course he’s in the room!” Thorin bellowed. “He wants to kill me!” They heard scratching. Thorin’s hair stood on end and his skin chilled from bumps. They turned around, seeking the source of the scratching.

“Try the door again?” Dwalin asked.

“Yes.”

They turned around. The door was rattling. Thorin and Dwalin backed away, their hands on their weapons. Thorin doubted they’d be much help, but they at least offered comfort. Like a child’s favorite toy.

The door swung open.

Thorin stared at it. “What happened?”

“Who cares?!” Dwalin snapped, grabbing Thorin’s arm. They ran out and headed down the corridor. “You need to leave Erebor. Name Balin your regent for a while. Just long enough for us to figure out how to get rid of Bilbo—”

 _Bang…_ Dwalin turned around, his ax in hand. _Bang…Bang…_

“Dwalin,” Thorin said. “Run.” They turned around and sprinted down the corridor.

_Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!!!_

“When I die, I’m going to murder the little shit!” Dwalin shouted. Thorin turned right and ran down the stairs.

“NO!!!” someone screamed in anguish. Thorin paused, staring where the voice came from. Dwalin bumped into him.

“Why’d you stop?”

Thorin ran toward the voice. He skidded to a halt. Bombur and Bofur were at the bottom of the stairs, crying. Bifur’s face was turned away from them and he lied on the floor. He didn’t move. Thorin descended the stairs, supporting himself on the rail.

Dwalin walked past him. He knelt down, pressing his fingers to Bifur’s neck. He pulled his hand away and bowed his head. Thorin fell to the step. His legs refused to work. He’d seen horrible things in his life. War and skirmishes were always terrible.

But this…

“You.”

Thorin turned to Bofur. Bofur stood up, twisting his hat in his hands. “This is your fault!”

“I didn’t make him fall—”

“ _He was pushed!!_ ” Bofur shouted. “It got colder, then something shoved me and Bombur out of the way and Bifur was _pushed_ down the stairs! It was Bilbo, wasn’t it?! WASN’T IT?! You killed him and now he’s going after all of us!”

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What else could it be?!” Bofur shouted, lunging at Thorin. Dwalin and Bombur grabbed his arms. “What else could it bloody be?!”

Thorin shook his head. _One by one they came a-falling…one by one they came a-falling…one by one…one by one…one by…one…_ “Maybe your right,” Thorin said. He looked at Dwalin. “No one in the company is safe.” Dwalin approached and pulled Thorin up.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said. “Bilbo did not have to do this. He didn’t have to do any of this. The only blood on your hands is his. It was wrong, we know that now, but we cannot rewrite time. Look at me: do _not_ carry Bifur’s blood too.”

“But—”

“Thorin, we are not leaving.”

“He’s going to kill us all! ‘One by one they came a-falling.’ It means we’re going to die and I will be last! You can’t stay here. I can live with the ghost. Let him torment me alone, but the rest of you have to leave!” Dwalin slammed his fist into Thorin’s jaw. Thorin blinked. Only Dwalin could get away with it, but he never actually dared to punch Thorin before.

It was shocking.

“After all this time, you really think I’m going anywhere? We’re brothers, Thorin.”

“Shield-brothers—”

“No, we’re _brothers_ ,” Dwalin corrected. “I’ll explain later. Now is not the best time. Bilbo’s started. We need to go.”

“We can’t leave him!” Bombur said, still holding Bofur.

“We won’t,” Dwalin assured him, pulling his cloak off and covered Bifur with it. “We’ll come back for him in a bit. But we cannot stay here. Not now. If you want to stay, that is your choice. I need to get Thorin out of here before Bilbo attacks again.” Dwalin grabbed Thorin. “Stay or not. I don’t care.”

He pulled Thorin toward a more populated area of the palace. “Alright,” Dwalin said. “We should be safe now.”

“You said we’re brothers?” Thorin asked, trying to comprehend it. Dwalin turned to him. He nodded.

“We’re brothers. Half-brothers, actually. Thrain is my father.”

Thorin stared at him, hands curling into fists. He slammed one into Dwalin’s jaw. Dwalin massaged it. “I want the truth.  Now. Before I throw you out!”

Dwalin lowered his hand. “Later.”

“No. Tell me now, Dwalin. And tell me the truth!”

Dwalin sighed. “Not here. Get a cloak. We’ll go to the pub and I’ll explain there.” Thorin glared at him, but agreed. He never liked secrets being kept from him.

This was why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the "I'm your brother" bit was unplanned. Now I have a new head-cannon and I love it!!! :D


	13. Chapter 13

~Two Hundred and Six Years Prior~

“You cannot hold Fris responsible for being unable to conceive, Father,” Thrain hissed. “Why would it matter. There is plenty of the Line of Durin around to name an heir. I don’t need to have a son to carry on the family line. There is Nain’s son, and Fundin’s son Balin—”

“And what would that say of us?” Thror snarled. “A son of Durin who is not the first born son of the first born son? You need an heir of your own blood. Fris cannot do this for you and I will not settle for a nephew or cousin of our line on the throne. Take another wife. Have a son.”

Thrain pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to yell at Thror. His father was old fashioned, archaic in his ways. He preferred to think of himself as traditional.

But taking another wife?

Even _that_ was considered an abomination by the strictest of Mahal’s followers—especially if your wife was your One.

Thror always considered himself an exception to the rules. Thrain didn’t feel as though being royalty really changed anything. Being king did not make one equal to a god.

Thrain leaned on the banister, looking out at the long lake and the cities of Dale and Esgaroth.

_What am I going to do?_

“Your highness.”

Thrain turned to Fundin as he approached.

“Hello, Fundin,” he said.

Thrain fought down the wince at how sullen he sounded. It didn’t escape his cousin’s notice.

“My apologies, Sire, but I overheard you and the king. Perhaps I can offer a solution?”

“What do you have in mind?” Thrain asked.

“Surrogacy,” Fundin said. “I have a son already. I am content, but perhaps Kalea and I could help you and Fris have a child.”

#

“Do it,” Fris said, staring at them. “If it will work, then I can accept it. But the child will be ours. He or she will never know.”

“Agreed,” Fundin said.

Kalea sucked in a breath, glaring at her husband and embracing a sleeping Balin close to her chest. Fris stood and excused herself. After a moment, Kalea followed.

“Are you sure this will work?” Thrain asked. “Even if our wives have agreed to this…I fear the consequences.

“That only matters if there are consequences,” Fundin said. “And there will only be consequences if we are discovered.”

Thrain turned to him. “I don’t understand how you can so heartless.”

“I am trying to help. Would you rather I not?”

“I am only accepting because Fris accepted,” Thrain said. “But only this once.”

#

“How is she?” Fundin asked.

Thrain shook his head.

The healers had not yet let him see Fris and her illness was getting worse every day. It had been hard to look at Kalea lately. Thrain felt he had committed too big of a betrayal by lying with her.

Even though it had worked, it had been a mistake.

He should never have accepted Fundin’s offer.

The door opened and a healer stepped out.

“Your highness, wonderful news. Lady Fris is all right. She is with child.”

Thrain stared at him, unsure he was hearing properly.  He entered the room and approached the bed. Fris was weeping, a hand on her belly.

“Is it true?”

She nodded.

Thrain beamed, kissing her, then her stomach.

He did not see Fundin storm away, striding angrily down the halls.

What use could he have with a bastard child?

Even if it was the bastard child of his prince?

~Present Day~

“And you grew up knowing this?” Thorin asked.

“No,” Dwalin said. “I didn’t know until after the dragon came. I caught Fundin arguing with Thrain and it was brought up. Balin does not know either. I couldn’t tell him. Not that I would have. My father—Fundin, that is. He raised me, so he is my father even if I do not agree with his choices—made me swear not to tell anyone. I had meant to take it to the grave.”

Thorin massaged his head, letting Dwalin’s tale circulate in his mind. He had another brother.

“You knew at Azanulbizar and still did not tell me.”

“Yes.”

“When Dis lost Víli and she died when the boys were still too young to understand, you did not tell me.”

“Yes.”

“And when I lost Fili and Kili to war, when my entire world just _crashed_ down, even then you refused to tell me.”

“I was there, wasn’t I? Every step of the way, I was there. I couldn’t tell you, but I kept by your side anyway. I knew it was wrong to let you execute Bilbo, and I have honestly regretted that because it cost me too much, but I wasn’t going to chose between a stranger and my brother.”

“You should have! Perhaps I would have listened to _you_!” Thorin snapped.

He shook his head.

It was too much.

Far too much.

His head hurt. Bifur was dead, Bilbo was haunting him, Mahal only knows what has become of his nephews, and his best friend was a brother he never knew he had.

“I let him go, you know. Until today I couldn’t tell anyone. I was too terrified of what would happen if I did. Ori gave me an impossible choice. He got to know Bilbo. I didn’t. I never knew him as well as Ori did. And he begged me to help him. To choose someone I hardly know over my brother and my king.”

Thorin looked at him. Dwalin ran a hand over his head.

“I shouldn’t have let him go.”

“What if I threatened Ori instead of Bilbo?” Thorin asked, leaning on the table.

A group of Dwarves passed by them, laughing and wobbling around drunkenly.

“What if I decided to blame _him_ for my nephews’ deaths? Would you have stood by my side then?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes. Your brother threatens the life of your One. Who do you choose? You love them both.”

“You wouldn’t make me choose.”

“But I am. Dwalin, I’ve seen the way you look at Ori. I’ve seen the way you act now with him so close you can reach out and grab him. So I’m asking you to choose: your brother or your soul mate.”

Dwalin stared at the table. “Ori. If it came down to it, I would choose Ori. Brothers be damned.”

“Good,” Thorin said, he sat back in his chair. “Now I say this as your brother and your king: go find him and tell him what you’ve told me. You still love him. Tell him that.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Dwalin sighed. “Especially now with everything happening. I don’t know if he’d listen.”

“He’ll listen,” Thorin assured him. “I’m listening aren’t I?” Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Telling you is different than telling him.”

“Why? Because I’m your brother? He has brothers of his own. He will understand, even if he does not agree,” Thorin said. “Besides, I’m sick of your moping.”

“I do not mope.”

“You do,” Thorin said. “And I’m tired of it. Go talk to him. Tonight. Before someone else dies.”

“That’s not comforting!”  Dwalin snapped.

“No. It’s the truth,” Thorin said. “So don’t waste more time than you already have.”

Dwalin stared at him. He stood. “If it goes to hell, I’ll throw you to Bilbo.”

Thorin chuckled, pretending that the threat didn’t dig into his skin more than it did. He knew Dwalin was bluffing. And yet…

“Don’t let Dori or Nori catch you,” he said instead they might end up tearing off you skin and eating it alive.

Dwalin fled the tavern. Thorin leaned back in his seat.

“ _We need to talk_.”

 He turned around. Nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned back to his ale and paused, staring at the message scratched into the wood.

_Go back to the palace. Sit in front of the fire. I will find you there._

As soon as he finished reading them and accepted they were there, Thorin blinked. The message was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to have this up yesterday....

The fire crackled loudly in the hearth. Thorin dared not look up, wringing his shaking hands and sometimes massaging is forehead. His stomach roiled and he bent in half, face in his hands, groaning. He was cold. The fire went out and he gasped, blinking as his sight adjusted.

“You need not be so afraid. I mean you no harm.”

Thorin jumped up. The glowing wisp approached and stretched into a form. Fili stood in front of him. He seemed to glide. Unlike when Thorin had seen Bilbo, Fili seemed whole. If not for the transparency and the way he moved, Thorin would have thought he was staring at his nephew again.

“You’re here?”

“Yes, Uncle, I am here,” Fili said. “Thank you for helping Tora and Víri when they needed it.”

Thorin sat down again. “Víri can see you?”

“Yes. He can see me,” Fili said with a smile.

“How is it he has been able to see you and yet I cannot?”

“I’m not sure. Could be because he is a child. My child. I’ve…attached myself to him. Being away from him now,” Fili sighed. “It’s painful. Like a lingering ache. We all feel it. It only gets worse with time. He’s fine though. Bifur’s watching him for me. As for why you could not see me, I didn’t want you to.”

“You said you feel pain?”

Fili nodded. “All ghosts do. Worse are those of us who are cursed. Bilbo gave into it first. He wanted to give into it. And thanks to your séance, he now has the strength he needs to attack. I’m holding him back right now, but Kili will help him if Bilbo demands it.”

Thorin swallowed. The times he saw Kili and Bilbo…how he preferred his nephew to the Hobbit. “I have done nothing to Kili to earn his ire.”

“He was close to Bilbo and you killed him. That is more than enough for him.”

“Is there no way to stop Bilbo?” Thorin asked. Fili shook his head. “I can’t let him kill everyone in the company when so many of them were on his side! His quarrel is with me!”

“He’s stopped caring long ago,” Fili said. “He’s a poltergeist. Very vengeful, very angry. Bilbo is not our Bilbo anymore. If anything, he’s a monster. Something most ghosts keep their distance from. Kili is becoming the same.”

“If he wants me, he should just come after me!” Thorin shouted.

“He _is_ going after you,” Fili said. “He made that clear six months ago.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do I stop him?”

“You can’t. I already tried. Bilbo will kill everyone. We’re tired, we want to move on, but he’s utilizing it as a way to torture you further. Everyone you love will die, not just the company.”

“I will find a way.”

Fili scoffed. “Good luck. Protect my family.”

He vanished—

Thorin sat up, staring at the fire. _Did I fall asleep?_ He rubbed his eyes, groaning. The clock above the fireplace ticked midnight and Thorin felt his muscles grow slack.

The day his nephews died has come again. In a few hours, he would say a few words about it and try not to drown. Thorin lowered his head again, sighing. He gasped at the sound of scratching.

 _Please, let it be a rat,_ he thought, rising to his feet and turning around. The scratching continued. Thorin stepped away from the fire, stepping softly around. He turned back to the fire and grabbed the poker, making a note to grab Orcrist when he reached the sword.

_BAM!!_

Thorin spun around, poker brandished in front of him. “Where are you, you goblin,” he hissed. Something flashed in the corner of his eye and Thorin turned toward it.

Whatever it was, it was gone. Or perhaps just keeping out of sight.

“Bilbo?”

The fire snuffed and Thorin tensed, staring at the smoke rising from the hearth. Thorin’s heart hammered in his chest and blood deafened him. Thorin took a deep breath, hoping to regain some shred of normalcy. His breath came out like a puff of smoke.

_CLANG!!_

Thorin turned to where the noise came from.

“Ooh, so close.”

Thorin spun around, swinging the poker. Bilbo held his hand up, halting the motion. He smirked and plunged his hand into Thorin’s chest. It _hurt_. It felt like red hot iron knives digging into his chest cavity.

“Right now, your heart is in my hands,” Bilbo said.

Thorin looked at him. His eyes were red. The skin around them bruised, skin decaying, nose missing, a scar around his neck where the head had been removed.

“Can you feel it? Hurts, doesn’t it?” Bilbo asked, squeezing his fingers around the appendage.

Thorin groaned.

“Let me tell you what is going to happen now: one by one, the company will die. I’ll kill that brat of Fili’s and his whore. Everyone whom you care for will drop one by one, like flies. And you will live alone. Well, not alone. I’ll keep you company as the night falls in and darkness suffocates you. What you feel now is just the beginning.”

He let go, vanishing. Thorin fell to the floor, hand pressed to his chest and gasping for breath as he sucked in air and the pain eased away and tears trailed down his cheeks. He climbed back to his feet and headed for the door.

#

Dwalin had wandered for hours, trying to find the courage and the words to say to Ori. But telling Thorin they were brothers was not even close to the same as telling Ori. He hadn’t even _meant_ to tell Thorin. He arrived at the Ri’s staring at the door.

Dori would likely answer. He would stay, ever watchful, as Dwalin talked to Ori. Nori would likely watch from the shadows. He didn’t want them to know. Not yet.

He missed Ori. Missed him every day and wondered how things would have gone differently if he had stepped in and stopped Thorin. Thorin may say he would have listened to Dwalin, but the likelihood of it was quite slim. Thorin was in no state to be reasoned with at the time.

“Forget this,” he muttered, walking away from the door again.

“They aren’t at home if that’s what you’re worried about.” Dwalin turned around. Ori stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Would you like to come in?”

“Will you talk to me again if I do?” Dwalin bit back. Ori blinked. “I’m sorry. I—”

“I miss you, too,” Ori said. “Come inside. There’s tea and Dori recently made some biscuits.” The corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. Dwalin followed him inside. The house was larger than the one they lived in back in Ered Luin, still small, but far more comfortable for the brothers.

“Where are your brothers?”

“With Bofur and Bombur,” Ori said. “Bifur…”

“I know,” Dwalin said. “Thorin and I were there when…”

Ori’s eyes bugged. “He fell down the stairs?”

“Or was pushed. We didn’t see it happen, but his neck snapped and the ax…”

Dwalin touched his forehead. Anyone could tell that the ax in Bifur’s skull was sensitive. Even a small jolt could’ve been the end of him. Ori set a tea cup down in front of him with a small plate of biscuits.

“I, uh, didn’t come to talk about Bifur though…If you prefer to…”

“And what would I say?” Ori asked. “I am sad, but I have no words for once. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe in a couple days.” Dwalin hummed. He could understand that. “So,” Ori continued. “If you aren’t here to talk about what happened, then why are you here?”

Dwalin stared at the tea cup. “There’s a secret I’ve been keeping my whole life and it wasn’t until recently that I could tell it. Thorin made me come down here.”

Ori sighed, “Dwalin…”

“I know you think I screwed up in not helping Bilbo, but please understand why: I’m…Thorin is my brother.” Ori stared at him, unblinking. “I mean that Thrain is my father…” He feared looking at Ori. “He is my blood-brother and my best friend.”

“Dwalin, family does not end with blood. Bilbo was a good friend to all of us. Did you know he was ostracized in the Shire because he was a bachelor? He had no family to speak of and was not interested in getting married to anyone anytime soon. And yet he was the kindest soul out of all of us.”

Ori stood and began to pace, arms crossed over his chest. “Brothers or not, Bilbo didn’t deserve any of Thorin’s ire and _you_ could have stopped it. You just _chose_ not to. You see, it doesn’t matter to me if you and Thorin are brothers and as close to each other as I am to my brothers.

“If Dori or Nori tried to do what Thorin did, I would have stopped them and I would hope they’d have the same decency to stop me! Because _that_ is what brotherhood really is, Dwalin. It’s not loyalty.

“Hell, what family is ever really loyal to each other? They call each other out on their faults and they aren’t scared to push each other into the mud!

“Being a family doesn’t mean loyalty, it means you’re honest with each other and willing to call your brother out on his shit! C’mon! You grew up with Balin. Would you have given into his shit?

“I seem to recall a few stories about you two having a few noteworthy rows. It’s _never_ just the good times, it’s also the bad.

“But you know what? None of that matters because you _still_ let an innocent man die!”

Dwalin stared at his hands, speechless.

“If anything, it makes what you did worse!” Ori continued. “Because I _know_ you knew it was wrong! You were a guardsman! You used to _fight_ for justice! When did loyalty ever mean more than that?” Ori sat down again, leaning down. “Damn it, Dwalin, how could you have fucked up so badly?”

He looked up at Ori, who shook. He really had no answers.

“Did you hate Bilbo as much as Thorin did?” Ori asked, looking up again. “Is that why you did nothing?”

“No—”

“Then _why_ , Dwalin? Why would you not save him? You didn’t even _try_ and I will never understand that. Your bullshit excuse about loyalty…that’s not good enough.”

“Ori, I’d—”

“What? Do anything for me? You know, I believed that once. And when I asked you to stop Thorin, to save _my_ best friend, you _didn’t_. I never asked for anything from you until then and you wouldn’t do it. _That_ is why I left you. That and I was afraid Thorin would go after any of us who stood up for Bilbo.”

Dwalin reached out, cupping Ori’s cheek. The brief touch was to Dwalin as water to a thirsty man. Then Ori jumped away and it was gone, leaving a deeper pain, a bigger hole unfilled deep in his chest.

“ ** _Don’t_** _touch me_!” Ori shouted. “Don’t _ever_ touch me! Get out! _Get **out**_!”

Dwalin left, wincing as the door slammed in his face. He touched the door and pressed his forehead to the wood. “Ori, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you, Ori. Please, if anything, believe that.”


	15. Chapter 15

“My lord?”

Thorin paused, looking at the guard. “Yes?”

“This is the third time you’ve past this way? Are you all right? Should I send for Captain Dwalin?”

“No,” Thorin said. “I just…I can’t sleep. I’m fine.” He swallowed. “As you were.”

The guard bowed and returned to his post, again still as the mountain.

Thorin turned is face away from him and descended the stairs where Bifur had fallen. He paused at the landing, staring at the dried blood stain. He sat down. “I’m sorry, Bifur,” Thorin said. “I’m sorry…” The stone chilled and his breath came out in white puffs of smoke. Thorin jumped up. Kili stood before him. “Kili!”

“Lephem!” Kili shouted. “LEPHEM!” He vanished, gliding right through Thorin.

Every bit of him was painfully cold and he shivered. Thorin braced himself against the banister and gasped for breath.

Why was this time different? Something felt…off…

Wrong…

Who was Lephem?

Thorin steadied himself, trying to think where _Lephem_ might be found.

Archives?

Library?

Census?

What did Kili want from him?

Thorin ignored how his legs shook beneath him. Three encounters in one night was more than enough for him.

But Kili…

_I thought Fili said he had joined with Bilbo. Why would he look so afraid if that was true?_

The library was closed, but Thorin lit a torch and stepped inside, lighting the lamps and setting the torch in a metal holder. He searched the dictionaries.

 _Lephem_ was not a word he knew in Khuzdul or Westron. Nor was it a word in Sindarin.

Black Speech?

Thorin hoped not. Not only would he worry about where Kili learnt it, he’d never be able to find it out unless he captured an Orc who knew Westron.

 _Could be a name_ , he thought, heading to the archives and digging up the new census.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thorin shook his head, hoping to rid himself of the fatigue.

_Wake up, you fool! Don’t fall asleep!_

“Thorin?”

He turned around, gasping.

Ori stood in front of him, holding a chair up. He set it down. “Sorry,” he said. “I came here to…well, it doesn’t matter. I saw the lights were on and your shadow…”

Thorin waved him off. “Perhaps you could help me. I’m looking for Lephem.”

“Lephem? Who’s Lephem?”

“I don’t know. Might not even be a who, actually—I just know that Kili said it.”

“Kili?” Ori asked. “You saw Kili?”

“And Fili. And Bilbo—it’s been a rough few hours if you’ve not noticed!”

“I can check the dictionaries.”

“It’s not Westron or Khuzdul.”

“Have you checked Sindarin or Quenya or Noldorin?” Ori asked.

Thorin turned to him, glaring.

“Yes, we have Elfish dictionaries here. Get over it.”

“Kili never knew any Elfish language.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t speaking it,” Ori said. “I’ll go check. If it’s not there, I’ll help you look through all that,” he motioned at the stack of censuses. “Fair enough?”

“Fine.”

Ori left and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What did you say he said?” Ori asked, returning to the small room.

“It was Lephem. I don’t know how it was spelled.”

“Pity we don’t know how it was spelled. That could help us quite a bit.”

“How?”

“Because it might be an anagram,” Ori said, grabbing a sheet of paper. “Sometimes, things get…jumbled. A very common occurrence is when a ghost comes about shouting red rum.”

“Red rum?”

“Backwards, it’s murder,” Ori said.

Thorin arched a brow. “If that is meant to make me feel better, it's a poor job.”

“Why would I do that?” Ori asked coldly.

Thorin scoffed. “You…really hate me, don’t you?”

“Hate’s too nice a word for how I feel about you,” Ori said. “Think of it this way: if I killed Dwalin, who is your brother _and_ your closest friend, would you be able to forgive me?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“There’s your answer. Anyway, if _lephem_ is an anagram, then he wasn’t pointing you to a word or a name, but asking for…asking for help.”

He handed the paper to Thorin. Thorin took the paper and read it.

_HELP ME_

“Fili said he had _joined_ Bilbo’s crusade—”

“That doesn’t sound like Kili to me. Bilbo is furious and rightly so. Did Bilbo do anything that would make Kili change his mind about helping him?”

Thorin shook his head, massaging his eyes. He wanted to sleep so badly!

“Um…Bifur, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like Bilbo killing people who had not hurt him,” Ori said. “Most of the Company were on Bilbo’s side. The only one who ever really hated him was you.”

Thorin sighed. “I just want peace. I want to be able to sleep again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have killed Bilbo then,” Ori spat.

Thorin was too tired to care. He could go ahead and insult Thorin’s heritage and Thorin would not care.

Ori put the books away. “Go home.”

“Can’t,” Thorin said. “He’s there. He won’t let me sleep.”

Ori pulled him to his feet. “Go home,” he repeated. “And try not to let it get to you.”

Thorin grunted and headed for the door. He stopped and turned around.“Did Dwalin see you?”

“Yes,” Ori said. “It changes nothing. I’m still so mad at him.”

“He did what he thought was best.”

“He did _nothing_ ,” Ori snapped. “And I’m never going to forgive him for that.”

“Ori, he is miserable without you,” Thorin said. “He loves you. Even if you don’t forgive him please at least let him back into your life.”

Ori didn’t answer, shoving the files back violently and stormed past Thorin, heading deeper into the library.

Thorin lowered his gaze to the floor. He could understand anger. He knew betrayal, but he couldn’t fathom why anyone would leave their One. Thorin left the library, but he didn’t go back to his home until it was nearly dawn.

#

Two guards entered the council room, each holding onto Tora’s arms as they did.

“Sire.” Thorin turned around to see them. “This girl insisted on speaking with you.”

“She is welcome,” Thorin said, waving them away. The council eyed her curiously. Tora curtsied. “Where is Víri?”

“With a friend, your majesty,” she said. Thorin led her away from the others. “I have given your offer thought and I think, for Víri’s sake, I would like to accept your offer.”

Thorin hummed. “You know that would make you a princess.”

“I do. And I don’t deny that that scares me, but if Fili had lived, I would have lived in the palace much sooner.”

“Indeed, you would have,” Thorin agreed.

He waved at a servant, sending them to get the sons of Fundin and Dori.

“The ceremony honoring my nephews is not for another few days, in which time, you’ll be taught basic etiquette and a gown made. Of course, others will be made for you and given Víri’s age, no one will expect him to behave more maturely than he already does. I’ll have Dwalin fetch him and introduce you to Dori and Balin. They will have a princess of you by the end of the week!”

Tora grinned. “You’re excited, my lord.”

“From here on, I would prefer you to address me as ‘uncle,’ Tora.” Thorin kissed her hand. “I have to go back to the council, but I promise you—Dwalin! Go get Víri and bring him here.”

Dwalin arched a brow at Tora as he slowed to a halt. “You’ve decided to accept?” Tora nodded. Dwalin hummed. “I’d best get the prince, then,” he said.

“Don’t worry much about the ceremony. Go ahead and be honest, but I’d tell the inquirers that you and Fili wed in secret.”

“We didn’t marry.”

Thorin nodded. “But they don’t need to know that. Nor will it matter. As soon as the ceremony ends, you and Víri will be legally adopted into my line. Even if the truth is unearthed, it will not matter. Víri will be a legitimate heir to Durin’s line.”

Balin and Dori rushed over. Thorin introduced Tora to them and bade them leave. He watched her go with Dori and grinned. Finally, things were starting to go right again.

_But for how long?_


	16. Chapter 16

“It would have been kinder to know that Fili had a One,” Dain said when Thorin informed him of the announcement. “Would have cleared up a huge mess.”

“I suppose it would have,” Thorin agreed, “But what's done is done and Gimli is quite relieved that the title of King under the Mountain will pass to another.”

“Are you sure the people will accept her?” Dain asked.

Thorin sighed, “The people, yes. I’ve no doubt they will accept a queen who knows them well. It’s the court I cannot be sure of. I do not know how they will react to Tora and Víri.”

“Have you an idea of what you’ll tell them? Finding her might have been a godsend, but it is also strange. After all these years, why has she not come forward? I know it’d be strange. It’d be kinder for her to adjust if Fili had actually said he was courting her.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Dain. “You question her honesty?”

“No. You trust her, and that is more than enough for me. Merely I want to know how you found her,” Dain said. Thorin nodded.

“Have you seen her son?” Thorin asked. Dain shook his head. “He looks too much like Fili for her to not be telling the truth. Same eyes, same hair, same nose…he also has Fili’s old toy. I believe Tora knows what she is getting into.”

 “A posthumous wedding,” Dain muttered, wrinkling his nose. “It’s odd.”

“The child is also posthumous.”

“But that happens to many warrior families anyway—oh!” Dain stumbled a little bit and they looked down at Víri. He was wearing new trousers and shirt, Ara in his hand.

“Víri!” Tora shouted, striding toward them. Víri got to his feet and held Ara close. “What have I said about running off?” She was wearing a black gown and her hair was adorned in obsidian beads. Tora lifted Víri up onto her lap. “My apologies, my lords,” she said with a curtsy. She strode away after Dori before Dain and Thorin could respond.

“You were right,” Dain said, “He does look like Fili did when he was a child. You’ll not have trouble contesting his right to the throne. His mother is a fair beauty as well, is a bit meek.”

Thorin nodded. “She is the daughter of a miller.”

“It might be easier for you to say she is your daughter,” Dain said. “A long lost love child.”

Thorin arched a brow. “That would be incest, cousin, as her own child is Fili’s.”

“You know that, I know that, your company knows that. The people and the court _don’t_ have to.”

“I will not belittle her heritage. She will be introduced as Fili’s wife. Not as my daughter.”

“I just think it’d be easier for her to be accepted into the court if she had a more stable position aside from being ‘Fili’s wife.’”

“Compared to other lies, it’s the closest to the truth. Besides, there are too many lies in this family as it is. I would rather not add too much to them. Don’t you think?”

Dain sighed. “Very well,” he said. “She’s rather pretty…”

“For a miller’s daughter?”

“In general,” Dain said, waving him off. “A bona-fide _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_.” Dain winked at Thorin who glared at him.

“That ‘bona-fide _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ ,’ cousin, is the new princess of Erebor. Be sure to hold your tongue.”

Dain laughed. “Well, I hope this doesn’t create as big a mess as it’s bound to. The court can get awfully stuffy.” They parted ways and Thorin massaged his head.

Did Dain not know how worried Thorin truly felt? He knew Tora was going to face opposition for being low-born, One or not. He wished the court would be more accepting that soul mates could come from any class and clan. Tora was Fili’s One and as far as Thorin was concerned, that was enough reason to name her his heir. Beyond that, there was Bilbo. When Thorin legally adopted Tora and Víri, it would put them at the same risk Thorin faced now.

The ceremony was tomorrow. There was no time to worry about Bilbo’s angry spirit roaming the halls. He could only hope that the ceremony would be as success as they have been in the past. No ghosts. No poltergeists. No accidents.He just hoped that was not too much of a wish.

#

 _Ni hurm anzaraz hi namad-inùdôy_ echoed off the stone as Thorin approached his nephews’ tombs. _Ashmukh azl zabadîthaz. Ni idh khul mabar…_ He stared up at the statue depicting them as a knight and an archer. The candle light danced off the walls. Thorin sighed.

“Another year, another ceremony to honor my lost heirs,” he whispered. Thorin turned to the people. “Never can a king be prouder of heirs as honorable as Prince Fili and Prince Kili. I stand here hoping to honor my heirs. And there is no greater honor to have called them my family.” Tora and Víri approached, earning several stares as they approached. “And with the same pride I hold for my nephews I hold for my lost niece and great-nephew.” Tora knelt before him, one arm secured around Víri’s waist. “Who I now welcome into the line of Durin,” Thorin continued. “I name Tora, wife of Fili, Crown Princess of Erebor.”

He didn’t expect an applause nor did one come. However, the murmuring was a reaction he did expect. He offered his hand to Tora and she handed him Víri, who he propped on his hip. Víri hugged Ara close and refused to look at the crowd. “Would you like to wave?” Thorin whispered to him. Víri shook his head, still silent. Thorin glanced at Tora, whose lips curled upward in a small smile.

“He’s not spoken much since we came here,” she admitted as they walked back down the aisle. “Homesickness, maybe.” Thorin hoped that was the case.

The doors slammed shut in their faces, silencing the halls. Thorin handed Víri back to Tora and the child hid his face in his mother’s neck. The banging intensified, echoing off the walls, and Thorin unsheathed his sword.

_“Hetawysi thusti sawmadae ybothes howrae edda nad het edda peketi.”_

“Show yourself!” Thorin shouted.

_“Hetawasi thusti.”_

“Draw arms,” Dwalin ordered. “To the king!”

“Open the door!” Thorin demanded. “Get the people out of here!” They screamed when a smoky figure seemed to pull itself free from the memorial and Kili slid to the ground in a foggy heap on the floor. Thorin shuddered.

_“Nucel lephem!”_

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know how,” he shouted.

_“Lephem!”_

“I don’t know how!!” Thorin turned to Dwalin. “Open the door!!”

“Can’t,” Dwalin said. “It won’t budge.”

Thorin set a guard to stay with Tora and Víri and helped shove open the door. It opened just enough to slip out. “Tora, take Víri and run!”

The spirit slid forward, the smoke rippling as Kili tried to take a human form. Tora and a few others managed to slip out before the door slammed shut. Thorin groaned and Dwalin gripped his shoulder. “You all right?” Thorin shook his head and hissed at the cold touch on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Kili said. “He won’t let me go.” His hand slid to Thorin’s chest and plunged inside. Thorin, gasped as pain shot through him and brought him to his knees…He vanished. Balin stood in front of them, sword in hand and the blade motioned downward. Thorin stared at him as he was helped back to his feet.

“How did…how…”

“This sword is made from pure iron,” Balin said, sheathing his sword. “Might not be much, but for whatever reason, iron is like fire for spirits. We don’t know why it hurts ghosts, but at least it works.”

“You cut my nephew with a sword,” Thorin deadpanned, rubbing his chest.

“He’s dead,” Balin reminded him. “He’ll be fine. Now let’s open the door and get out of here before he comes back.” The doors swung open and they fled.

“Iron wards them off?” Thorin asked.

“Yes,” Balin said.

“What else?”

“Salt. Some herbs can be effective. But salt and iron are better because they don’t wear out.”

“How do you know this?” Dwalin asked.

“Unlike _some_ , I know how to _look_ for information I want,” Balin said, flicking Dwalin’s ear. “Now I take it Orcrist is not made of iron?”

“No,” Thorin said. “Elves use a lighter weight metal, it seems. I don’t know what they use. I’ll have new iron reinforcements around the castle.”

“Smart, but will they be done fast enough?” Balin asked.

“I will figure it out,” Thorin said.

“What I don’t understand is what is wrong with Kili. Or why you said ‘I don’t know how.’” Balin arched a brow at Thorin, who shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain Kili’s plight or even what he wanted help with. But he told Balin what he did know. “Ghosts are a complicated bunch,” Balin said. “There are several types of ghosts and all of them can be warded off with salt and iron. Of course, for the most part, they’re just…tortured and rabid. Kili doesn’t seem like that, does he?”

“No,” Thorin said, “Lephem is probably an anagram for ‘help me.’”

Balin stroked his beard as they arrived at the forges. The smiths stopped and bowed. Thorin quickly gave an order to blacksmiths to use pure iron for whatever it was they made. Weapons, utensils, door frames, and so on. “He isn’t acting like an angry spirit or poltergeist. Neither is Fili,” Balin said. “Perhaps Kili has become a death omen?”

“He showed up asking for help after Bifur died,” Thorin said. “If that was the case, wouldn’t he have come to me _before_ Bifur?”

“Are you sure?”

“I was…attacked before then. Dwalin and I both,” Thorin admitted. “We assumed it was Bilbo.” They left the forges.

“This whole thing is getting out of hand,” Dwalin muttered.

“And who is to blame for that?” Balin snapped. “If you had just let Bilbo go home, _none of this_ would have happened.”

“I KNOW THAT!!!” Thorin bellowed. “There is nothing I can do about that now! You want me to admit it? Fine!” Thorin stormed down the hall and screamed at the ceiling. “I SLANDERED OUR BURGLAR AND MURDERED HIM IN COLD BLOOD!!! BILBO BAGGINS WAS INNOCENT OF THE CRIMES HE WAS ACCUSED OF!!! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR, YOU EVIL, FOUL, HATEFUL GOBLIN!!! I MURDERED YOU!!! SO COME AND GET _ME_ , BAGGINS, AND LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!!!” Thorin took a deep breath, his voice echoing off the wall. Nothing happened. “See?” He said, breathing deeply. “I know what I did was wrong. And I know I deserve to be punished for what I’ve done to him. But I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t take any more losses, Balin. It will destroy me if anything were to happen to Tora and Víri.”

“My lords!” A guard shouted. “Master Oin is dead! He’s been murdered, Sire!”  The trio followed him to the infirmary. A dagger still lay in Oin’s heart. His tools littered the floor. Dwalin knelt by him and pulled the dagger out.

“Look,” Balin said, pointing at the wall.

**_TWO DOWN_ **

**_NINE TO GO_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~ 
> 
> Âkùmin-Lukhudel=Cinderella
> 
> Ni hurm anzaraz hi namad-inùdôy=In honor of ruler origins is his sister-sons. 
> 
> Ashmukh azl zabadîthaz=Hail the memory of our young lords.
> 
> Ni idh khul mabar=In them peace sleeps


	17. Chapter 17

_“My lords!” A guard shouted. “Master Oin is dead! He’s been murdered, Sire!”  The trio followed him to the infirmary. A dagger still lay in Oin’s heart. His tools littered the floor. Dwalin knelt by him and pulled the dagger out._

_“Look,” Balin said, pointing at the wall._

**_TWO DOWN_ **

**_NINE TO GO_ **

“Why is he doing this?” Thorin whispered. He beat his fists against the marred wall. “I’M THE ONLY ONE YOU WANT, YOU BASTARD!!!”

“Thorin!” Dwalin shouted, hooking his arms around Thorin’s and pulling him away from the wall. “Bilbo isn’t here anymore!”

“It matters not! I will make this monster rue the day—”

Dwalin dragged Thorin out of the room. “You need to calm down,” he snapped. “Bilbo will be stopped. We will find a way to stop him. In the meantime, go back to the royal wing. Spend time with your niece and the little one, all right? We’ll handle this. You’re in no condition to go ghost hunting, Thorin.”

Thorin shook his head. “Why has he gone after the others? They are innocent. Why is he punishing them?” Dwalin bumped heads with him.

“Why doesn’t matter,” he said, handing Thorin an iron sword. “Go get some rest.  Use that if Bilbo comes after you again.” Thorin took the sword.

“Find a way to stop him,” he said. “I don’t care how you do it, just _stop him_.”

Dwalin bowed. Thorin left, propping the sword’s flat edge onto his shoulder. Bifur and Oin were dead. A ghost was hunting them, taunting Thorin in this cruel and unjust revenge.

Unjust.

Thorin laughed, voice echoing in the empty corridor. Paying an injustice for an injustice? That was screwed up! Bifur and Oin were innocent. Bilbo knew that so why kill them?

 _I’m being punished, aren’t I?_ Thorin thought. _I’m being punished for my one greatest crime? Is that it?_ He leaned against the wall and let the sword clatter to the ground as his laughter mingled with tears. _Please don’t kill them. They’re innocent. They didn’t do anything wrong. Punish me instead of them. Please. Punish me instead._

#

Thorin almost didn’t attend the joint funeral for Bifur and Oin. He stood far from the grieving families as they rested jeweled wreaths at the foot of the stone coffins. When the ceremony ended and the family’s dispersed. Thorin approached.

“I will put an end to this,” he vowed. “I just wish I could have done it before it was too late.” He laid a wreath of his own. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I’ve failed you.” He straightened and left.

The sound of iron being snapped stopped him and he turned around, watching the wreath he set break and shift. Thorin’s heart hammered in his chest and he wanted to run, yet a curiosity kept him rooted.

Who was doing it?

Why were they doing it?

He shivered as his eyes settled on the sharp points of silver and gold and took a step back. His skin prickled and puffs of cold air came from his mouth, eyes still fixed on the reformed wreath. Then it stopped. Thorin blinked several times, unsure what to think of it or even if it was real. It twisted and curved until it spelt a name:

DORI

Thorin looked around, trying to catch sight of someone or anyone, specter or mortal.

 _“Hurry,”_ echoed off the walls. _“Hurry…Save him…”_

“Thank you,” he whispered, turning on his heel and running for the Ri’s house. He pushed through the crowds, demanding they’d get out of his way. They obeyed, but stared at him as though he was mad. Perhaps he was. Most days he certainly felt mad.

He banged his hand against the door and called Dori’s name. The door swung open and Thorin never thought he’d be glad to see Dori so irate.

“It’s the middle of the night!” he snapped. “I’ve neighbors with children, Thorin!”

“You need to reinforce the house with iron,” he said.

Dori arched a brow. “Are you feeling all right, Thorin?”

“I’m fine,” Thorin said.

“Then what is this nonsense about iron?” Dori asked. Thorin counted windows. Balin said salt works too, but _how_ does salt work against ghosts? Iron seemed to work quite well. “Thorin?”

“Dori, please, trust me! He’s coming for you next—” Dori rolled his eyes. “Dori, listen to me!”

“No, Thorin, I don’t. We’ll talk again when you’re sober, all right—”

“Dori, I’m not drunk!”

“Then at least be coherent!” Dori snapped. “Why do I need iron?”

“Bilbo is targeting you next, I’m sure of it. Iron will ward him off.”

Dori arched a brow. “I have iron fire pokers, is that good enough for you?” Thorin nodded. “Then I’ll be fine. Go home, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But—”

“Thorin, I know it’s been rough with Bilbo’s ghost going mad, but if he is coming after me, then I’ll be all right. Okay?”

“He’s already killed two of the company!”

“I know that but someone has to stay calm. I promise I’ll be fine. Go home. Try to get some sleep. Mahal knows one of us should be well rested. If he comes, I’ll deal with him. All right?”

Thorin nodded. He didn’t like this. Dori led him to the door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“I’ve lived my whole life fighting,” Dori said. “This is no different. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He opened the door. “Goodnight, Thorin.”

Once outside, the door closed and Thorin returned to the palace.

The servants had long finished their work and the only light were that of the torches. His footsteps echoed on the stone, the sound bouncing off the walls. Thorin shivered. He felt watched. He turned around, searching for whoever might be watching him and found no one. It wasn’t soothing. Thorin quickened his pace and entered his room, slamming the door closed and leaned against it.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

 _Please_ , he thought, _please not tonight. Not tonight, I beg you._

A scream started him from the door.

_“Help me!”_

_“He’s hurting me!”_

_“Adad!”_

_“It hurts…it hurts…”_

_“Save me!”_

_“Lephem!”_

_“Empleh!”_

_“Redrum…”_

_“Killer…”_

_“Murderer…”_

_“Save us! Please!”_

_“Amad!”_

_“_ _Please! I beg you!”_

_“Don’t hurt me!”_

_“You’re killing me!”_

_“It burns! It burns!”_

Thorin covered his ears and closed his eyes, sinking to his knees. He ground his teeth and he felt as though something was tearing at him. He sobbed, trying to protect himself from the assault. His nails dug into his hair, scratching scalp.

_Am I going mad again?_

#

The morning sunlight seeped into the room. Thorin stared at the hearth, empty save for a few ashes. He didn’t move from his place even when someone knocked on the door and entered.

“Thorin?” Dwalin said, venturing closer. He touched Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin jumped out of the chair and grabbed a sword. Dwalin stared at him, backing away.

“How do I know you’re real? Are you alive? Or are you another specter sent to torment me?”

“Thorin, put the sword down,” Dwalin said.

“You might be another one of _his servants_ come to torment me further!”

“It really is me,” Dwalin said. He slowly reached around and pulled out a dagger. “Let me prove it to you, all right?” He dragged the blade over his hand. “See? I bleed. I’m real. Ghosts don’t bleed. Right? They don’t bleed.” Thorin watched the blood swell around the wound. “You believe me now?” Dwalin asked. “You’re safe, it’s all right.”

Thorin dropped the sword. “No it’s not.” He leaned against the wall. “None of this is all right.”

“Well I feel crummy,” Dwalin said. “There’s more bad news.” Thorin blinked. “Dori died last night. He had a fire poker in his hand, but his neck was broken but there are no marks to how it was broken.” Thorin bowed his head, sliding to the ground. He shaded his face from Dwalin.

“Uncle Thorin?”

He looked up and stared at the child. Fili…

_No, Víri. Fili is dead._

He stood up and wiped his eyes. “Yes, Víri?”

“Do you want to have breakfast with me and Mama?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes. I think I will. I’ll be there soon, okay?” Víri nodded and ran back to his and Tora’s compartment. He turned to Dwalin. “The blacksmiths need to double their shifts. I want every blacksmith in Erebor refurnishing doors, bed-frames, window-frames, everything they possibly can. Starting with Tora’s and Víri’s room.”

Dwalin bowed and strode out of the room. Thorin turns to the mirror and examines his face. He has dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks are almost hollow. There is more silver in his hair than before. He ran his fingers through the tangles.

A wisp of fog collected behind him.

“ _Uncle…please…help me…_ ”

Thorin closed his eyes and fled into the bathroom.


	18. Chapter 18

Thorin took to wandering the halls the next night on. It was easier than waiting to be assaulted in his sleep. Sometimes Kili would follow him, begging for his help. Thorin ignored Kili’s pleas, sometimes praying that Fili would come and comfort his brother, if he could.

Where was Fili? He hadn’t seen him since the night Bifur died. Was he still with his son? Was he all right? Thorin could only hope so.

Ignoring Kili grew easier, and sometimes he’d hear other spirits reliving their last moments. Kili sometimes snapped out of his begging to inform Thorin what happened to them. “The dragon” was the most common response. Sometimes it was “starvation,” “suffocation,” or “murdered.” Thorin didn’t know how he was expected to help them, so he didn’t try.

For nearly a week, it worked. It wasn’t ideal and he was so tired most days despite the obscene amount of coffee he drank. When his legs were too worn out to walk, he’d sit at his desk and read the papers he needed to sign. At the very least, he was working at a faster pace than he normally could do.

“You need to sleep,” Balin urged. “You’ll kill yourself at this rate.”

Tora offered to take over the morning meeting with Balin to help her so that Thorin could get some sleep. He accepted, but he worried too much about her at council without him, and he ended up spying on her from the shadows instead. At first, her nervousness showed. Slowly, she grew bolder and surer of herself. It eased him to see her step into the role of Crown Princess and future Queen so easily. Erebor would prosper under Tora, he hoped.

Sometimes, he’d visit Víri to see how the lad took to his studies. He seemed to enjoy some subjects more than others, but Thorin was much the same at that age.

Now it was the eighth night. Thorin walked the halls. Kili was nowhere to be found. Nor did he come across other ghosts. For the moment, he thought it would be a good night. Perhaps he could sleep again.

A door banged behind him and he turned around. It kept banging and he approached it. It lead to the balcony and a wisp was floating away toward it with Víri chasing after it.

“Adad, you’re going too fast,” Víri said, arms outstretched. The wisp kept far out of Víri’s reach and Víri clutched at the railing, pulling himself up. Thorin raced over to it, wrapping his arm around Víri’s middle and pulled him away. The wisp shifted its shape until Bilbo sneered at them.

Thorin drew his sword, aimed at Bilbo.

“Come Thorin, it’s bound to happen sooner or later,” Bilbo said. Víri as he grasped that he had not been following his father, began to weep. Bilbo dropped his shoulders and waved a hand, sending Thorin flying into the wall, the sword falling to the floor.

Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s hair, yanking on the strands hard enough to pull them out, and touched his cheek. It stung. “You’re only making everything harder for yourself. You know that right?”

Víri wept, hiding his face in Thorin’s shoulder.

“I will fight until you stay this madness,” Thorin said. “Your quarrel is with me. Please, Bilbo, don’t involve the others. Víri’s just a boy. He is—”

“Precious? I know.”

“This isn’t you.”

“Once upon a time, you’d be right. Now? Oh, this is very much who I am.” Thorin reached for his dagger. “I will make you suffer as you have never suffered before,” Bilbo vowed, glowering. Thorin slit at him and Bilbo screeched, vanishing. He scrambled to his feet and ran.

“Fili?!” Thorin shouted. “Fili, I swear to Mahal, I will summon your ass if you don’t get here now!” The room chilled and he spun around. Fili was chained to a wall. The chain cut into his neck and he tried to talk. Kili was pulling against it, trying to loosen the bindings. He turned to Thorin.

“Lephem.”

Thorin set Víri down, brandishing the dagger the chains are like ice to his touch, but they disappear when he brought the dagger down on one of the links. Fili gasped and fell to the ground.

“Adad!” Víri wept, latching onto Fili.

“Doesn’t that hurt him?” Thorin asked.

“No,” Fili said. “Bilbo’s not the only one who’s practiced.” He looked at Thorin. “Thank you. I’ve been there for weeks.”

“Was it Bilbo?”

“Among others,” Fili said, glaring at Kili.

“I didn’t want to. He—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Fili growled standing again. “Your actions could have cost my son his life, Kili. And now someone else will die in Víri’s place because you refuse to fight back!”

“Todni gifth ceebasu tianc!” Kili shouted.

“Who will die?” Thorin asked. Kili disappeared. Fili threw his hands in the air and hid his face behind a hand. “Fili, who will die?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It was lucky that Oin figured out who Bilbo would target after him, but we don’t know what else he plans to do or who to kill.” He pet Víri’s hair as he spoke. “I was afraid of something like tonight happening. That’s why I didn’t bring Víri and Tora to you sooner. But I couldn’t watch that scumbag target her…”

Thorin picked Víri up. “I don’t blame you. Had you lived, I would love to have seen you and Tora wed. Nor do I care you had a babe out of wedlock. Víri’s a wonderful boy and I’m proud to have him and his mother in our family.”

“But you can’t stop Bilbo.”

Thorin stared at Fili, grinding his teeth. “Watch me.”

#

“There is no sign of a break in,” the guard said. Dwalin sat down, staring at his hands. Thorin paced the room. “Nor sign that anything dark happened save that someone smothered him with a pillow.” Thorin dismissed him and sat beside Dwalin. Neither said a thing as Balin’s body was carried away.

“That’s four of the Company,” Dwalin said with a sniff. “How are the iron reinforcements coming?”

“Tora and Víri’s room has already been reinforced. New bed, new door. In the meantime, I intend to order the rest of the company to salt the doors and windows to keep Bilbo out. I just…Balin knew he was after us, why didn’t he—”

“Maybe it wasn’t Bilbo.”

“That’s hopeful thinking,” Thorin said. Dwalin stood and entered the bedroom. Thorin followed. A broken circle of salt was positioned over the bed and the window was open with a broken latch.

“Was there a storm last night?”

“After I Víri to bed, yes. Why?”

“Wind,” Dwalin said. Would that have done it?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “It could have. Or Bilbo’s got more tricks than we assumed.”

Dwalin sighed before turning to punch the wall.

“Take a few days off,” Thorin said, backing away. “I’ll see you later, Dwalin.” He left. He wanted to stay and comfort him if he could, but he didn’t think there was anything he could do. He had little consolation when he lost Frerin and Dis. What comfort could he really give Dwalin? For now, his brother wanted to be alone and he’d give him that.

Blacksmiths had moved to Thorin’s room by the time he returned. He nodded to them and went to the throne room. The court stared at him and Dain stood.

“Thorin, is it true?” he asked. “Has Balin been murdered?”

Thorin nodded. “We continue on as we always have,” he said.

“But—”

“I don’t want to think on it right now,” he said. “Please? Leave me be.”

Dain nodded and waved the others away before he approached Thorin. “What is going on? Yes, I heard you the first time, Thorin, but _four_ of your Company has been killed.”

Thorin sighed, slouching on his throne. “All I can say is that we’re being hunted, Dain,” he said. “That’s all I can tell you. I can’t tell you who our killer is.”

“Because you don’t know?”

 _Because you wouldn’t believe me_. Thorin didn’t respond. “Please, leave me? I need to rest.”

“Why come here?”

“My room is being worked on at the moment. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.” _You’re never going to get any sleep,_ echoed in the back of his mind. But he would try. Maybe he’d be less emotionally spent if he wasn’t feeling dead on his feet.

He didn’t know when he started to dream, but it wasn’t a good dream. Bad memories can never make good dreams…

_“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dwalin asked. “The Halfling’s innocent and you know that. Don’t you?” Thorin threw a golden cup at Dwalin, who dodged._

_“His actions cost me my heirs!” Thorin roared. “He betrayed me, Dwalin, made a fool of me!”_

_“Thorin, at least try to be rational. Bilbo never stood to gain anything from killing them and all he even said he was trying to save our lives.”_

_“So you join them as well? Think I’ve gone mad?”_

_“You have gone mad.”_

_“Take his place then!” Thorin shouted. “If you dare.” Dwalin did not move._

_“My place is with you and Ori. I only asked because Ori asked me to,” Dwalin said. “But if you are sure this is the only course of action you can take, then I will stand by my king.”_

_“Good choice,” Thorin sneered. “Leave.”_

_Dwalin left and Thorin collapsed in his seat, pouring himself another goblet of ale. He could banish Bilbo instead. He already had. It wouldn’t be hard to send him away…_

_But then he’d live while his nephews did not. Thorin could not let that be. He could not allow that to pass. Thorin leaned forward, taking another drink._

_They think him mad? He saw madness in his grandfather. He was nothing like his grandfather. He never would be—_

_But he did become his grandfather. Briefly. And when the anger and gold lust vanished, all that was left was guilt and sorrow. He could have spared Bilbo and never see him again. If he had done that, no one would be dying now. Bilbo would not have become the monster Thorin accused him of being…_

He woke to something digging into his back. He couldn’t scream and he couldn’t cry. He just waited for it to pass despite how much he wanted to scream.


	19. Chapter 19

“I think I somewhat understand your rage when you lost Fili and Kili now,” Dwalin said as they stood at the foot Balin’s casket. His body would be taken back to be entombed in Moria later that week. It was only fitting that the Dwarf that managed to reclaim the city be buried there. “I didn’t at first, though it hit me just as hard. But realizing you’re the last of your line can be…” he sighed.

Thorin could only nod. “I wish I could tell you how to reconcile the loss of someone who’s always been there, but I can’t say anything, Dwalin. I don’t know what to tell you or even how to make it better.”

“It’s not as though all is lost yet,” Dwalin said. “Tora’s stepping up to the role of Crown Princess well enough.” Thorin smiled.

“It gives me hope, if nothing else,” he admitted. They laid wreaths on the casket and left.

“It’s not the way he should have died,” Dwalin said. “Murdered by a ghost…Balin would rather have died in battle.”

“I agree, but until Bilbo can be stopped—”

“I don’t think he can be stopped, Thorin,” Dwalin commented. “He’s picking us off like chickens. There are only six of us left. Eight if you want to include Tora and her bairn. He’s still torturing you, too.”

Thorin bit his lip. He wouldn’t believe that Bilbo couldn’t be stopped. There had to be a way to stop him. “I’ll find a way.”

“And if there is none?” Dwalin asked.

“There must be,” Thorin insisted. “Are you thinking of seeing Ori?”

“He wouldn’t want to see me.”

“No one would blame you if you need to see him,” Thorin said. Dwalin crossed his arms and glared. _Haven’t you done enough?_ “It’s your life, Dwalin. If you want to watch him walk away from you again, that’s your choice.”

Dwalin grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall. “You think this is easy for me?!” he shouted. “Do you think it doesn’t hurt seeing him again?! I do want to go to him, but damn it, Thorin, I can’t! I don’t have that right!” He released him. “So _drop it_ , all right?”

Thorin straightened his tunic. “As I said, it’s your choice.” He left. It was better to just let Dwalin cool off on his own.

#

The days after Balin’s funeral were frenzied with the goodbyes and preparations for the Dwarves of Moria. Thorin was slightly surprised that Balin had named Ori his successor if anything had happened, and none were as surprised as Ori himself. Nori, however, thought it had a nice ring to it: Ori, Lord of Moria. Thorin agreed. It was actually catchy even if it did make the youngest Ri blush. Ori decided, once the transition from humble scribe to Dwarf Lord took place, that they would return to Moria in two days. Dwalin disappeared after that and Thorin didn’t bid him return.

“Are you certain you cannot forgive him?” Thorin asked Ori.

Ori bit his lip. “Sometimes I want to,” he said. “But then I remember why I left him and why it’s just…I can’t. Thorin, Bilbo was my best friend.”

“And now he is destroying everyone.”

“But he’s not the Bilbo we knew,” Ori reminded him.

Thorin bit back the retort he wanted to give. He wanted to remind Ori that Bilbo killed his brother. However, he got the feeling that Ori actually blamed him for all the deaths Bilbo had caused. They went their separate ways after that. Ori’s direction, not surprisingly, took him to the library. Thorin had not been in court an hour when word that the library had caught fire came to his attention.

Ori was still inside, last they heard. Dwalin raced to the library while Thorin dismissed the council and barked orders for the fire to be contained. By the time he arrived to the library, Dwalin had already, foolishly, ran into the flames. Water was being brought in buckets while Thorin barked orders.

Several agonizing minutes passed before Dwalin emerged. Both he and Ori were covered in burns and smelt of smoke, but otherwise, both were all right.

“Were you not as singed as you are now, I’d flatten your fat nose,” Thorin growled, smacking Dwalin’s head. Dwalin ignored him, holding Ori close. “How’d the library catch fire anyway?”

“Bilbo,” Ori said. “He…he was so…he—”

Dwalin hushed him, petting his hair. “You’re safe now,” he said. Ori breathed shakily, clutching at Dwalin’s tunic and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“Are there others still inside?” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know,” Ori said. “The fire started in the back after Bilbo showed up.” Dwalin helped him stand. Beneath the burns and ash, Ori looked pale. “Now what?”

“Both of you go to the infirmary,” Thorin said. “Maybe take the time to _talk_ ,” he added. Guards from Moria led them away while Thorin stayed to make sure that the fire was put out. He stared at the orange flames still licking the stone. It already proved to be a long day.

#

The healer tied the bandage and bade Dwalin to lie down while they fetched a poultice to aid in easing his and Ori’s breathing. He crossed his arms over his chest, pillows propped behind him.

“Why did you come after me?” Ori asked once the healer was gone. “That was stupid, Dwalin.” 

“Would you rather I have let you burn?” Dwalin snapped—whatever buried the hurt.

“That came out wrong,” Ori sighed. “I am grateful, I just…I don’t understand why you would.”

Dwalin turned to him. Ori was staring at his hands. Though in the fire longer, he managed to keep low to the ground and kept away from most of the flames compared to Dwalin. “It doesn’t matter how long we’re apart or how far. You’re still my One and I’ll always come if I know you’re in danger.”

Ori closed his eyes and pulled his legs to his chin.

“I know I screwed up when I didn’t save Bilbo—”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Ori mumbled. “It doesn’t matter how much you apologize, it’s too late. You didn’t do _anything_. You said it was impossible, but you could’ve done anything to stop it from happening and you _chose_ not to!”

Dwalin closed his eyes and sighed. What could he possibly say to make any of this right? He could tell Ori that he had talked to Thorin.

“I wish I could hate you for not saving him when you had the chance, Dwalin,” Ori mumbled. “I don’t know why I’m still in love with you.”

Dwalin turned to Ori. “You do?”

“I shouldn’t,” Ori said, fisting the sheets. “What you did was unforgiveable.”

“But you still love me.”

“It changes nothing. Leaving you was the hardest thing I had to do, but it doesn’t matter how much I love you. I can’t trust you, Dwalin.”

The healer returned with the poultice. He had Ori lie down. Ori obeyed, turning his face away from Dwalin’s view. It didn’t matter. Dwalin could still see the curve of Ori’s bright red ear and it made him smile again. Once the healer left, Dwalin turned to Ori again. He had shifted to his side with his back facing Dwalin.

“At least there’s a little hope,” Dwalin said.

“There isn’t.”

“You still love me. That’s more hope than I had dared to wish for, Ori.”

“I can’t trust you again. I won’t be burned by you and your false promises again.”

Dwalin got out of his bed and sat beside him. “Ori, if there was anything I could have done to save Bilbo, I would have done it. Had I known losing you would be the result, I would have tried harder to help him. Nothing was worth losing you. Ori, can’t we put this behind us?”

 “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’m an arse.”

“Worse than an arse.”

“All right. I’m worse. But I’m still yours,” Dwalin whispered. Ori gasped, shoulder’s shaking. Dwalin kissed his cheek, and wrapped his arms around Ori’s waist. He pressed his face to Ori’s back. He felt calm again, drinking in Ori’s scent and the warmth of his skin. “I’ve always been yours and I always will be.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“It’s not been fair for the last ten years.”

Ori placed a hand over one of Dwalin’s. “I’m not forgiving you yet,” he wept. “I can’t.”

“All right.” Dwalin kissed his shoulder. “Just this. Please.”

Ori nodded, gently drawing his nails over Dwalin’s hand. His breathing escaped his mouth shakily and the occasional sob was muffled into the pillow.

#

Thorin tightened his belt around his waist and donned the Raven Crown. He stared at himself in the mirror, looking every inch the king he had aimed to be. He picked up the vial, making sure it was still filled to the brim. He placed it in the pocket and turned to a bottle of his favorite wine, tucking it under his arm, and lastly he selected his favorite goblet.

He left his chambers and stopped by Tora’s room and glanced inside. Tora slept peacefully, holding Víri in her arms. Víri nuzzled closer to her and yawned. _They’ll be all right_ , he thought before closing the door and continuing on his way to the throne room. Once there, he sat on the throne.

“Bilbo Baggins? If you can hear me, reveal yourself. I’d like to make a deal with you and I think you’ll want to hear me out at least.”

“And why would I do that?” Bilbo asked, appearing right in front of Thorin. “What could you possibly have to offer me after all this time?”

“Me,” Thorin said. “You’re killing the others because you are punishing me, am I right?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.”

“Then stop going after the others and you can have me. The curse only lasts until the others die. Ori’s the youngest of us still living, he’s at least another century to live. You let the rest of the Company live. You leave Tora and Víri alone, never go after them again. If you agree to that, I will give you my soul to do with as you please. You’ll still get your revenge. Just let it be over.”

“You’re life for theirs? How noble,” Bilbo paced, tapping his chin in thought. “All right,” he said, smirking. “I accept.” Thorin pulled the cork off the wine bottle and poured the liquid into the goblet before pulling out the vial. “How fitting of a king,” Bilbo murmured. “And which cocktail did you select?”

“Hemlock.”

“Fitting indeed. Cheers, Thorin Oakenshield, and take pride in that you at least lived a long life.” Thorin ignored Bilbo, lifting the cup to his lips and drinking. He could feel his body shutting down. His muscles ached, his stomach burned, he couldn’t swallow, his heart beat erractically in his chest—

It was a pity that the last thing he saw as a living being was Bilbo laughing. But his family and friends were safe at last.

Over all, Thorin figured it was worth it.

~THE END~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, took the time to review, and leave comments! I know some of you were freaked out and honestly, I'm not sorry. It is a horror story, after all. 
> 
> Now, I kinda got the idea for a sequel. Takes place when Viri's *almost* an adult and he meets Frodo...and they find out about the Ring. Who'd like to see that? :)


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